#like SORRY??? Black fog was present in 2??? fucking WHERE?!

[semi-sketchy]

The Q&A of the Xenoblade 3 art book leaked and I am. Feeling something.

I think it's annoyance. I don't know if even Takahashi knows what he's cooking at this point.

#like SORRY??? Black fog was present in 2??? fucking WHERE?! #is the english translation of Riku's line in FR bad because like he uses a PLURAL WORD and you say it's referring to only ONE THING? #AND Y'ALL STILL AREN'T DONE WITH THE TRINITY PROCESSOR?!?! #YOU COULDN'T EVEN NAME MALOS OR PYRA OR MYTHRA BUT GOD DAMN YOU'RE GONNA DO MORE WITH THEM? #i think i wanna finally play xenosaga episode 2 because that makes more sense to me right now than xenoblade 3 #also yeah aren't avoiding artbook leaks for a game i've already played it's been like 2 years and i want answers dammit

[dreamy-cloudy]

Demon Slayer Hybrid AU (Sanemi Shinazugawa)

(versão 🇧🇷 após a Inglês)

Part 2

A low whimper was what woke me.

I opened my eyes slowly as the thick fog of the tranquilizer slowly faded from my mind. My body was sore, probably from not shifting position for a long time, which made me let out a low groan of pain. With the intention of stretching my body a little and getting rid of this uncomfortable feeling, I slightly stretched my arm only to be stopped by some kind of obstacle. A wall maybe? Shaking my head to clear the fog of unconsciousness once and for all, I look around and notice that what was stopping me wasn't quite a wall. It was a box. They put me in a damn box!!

Now fully awake, a wave of worry washes over me as I remember the previous events.

- What the fuck! Genya?!

- I'm right here, Sanemi! Her voice sounded a little annoyed.

I look in the direction of the voice and a slight blush fills my face. I was sedated enough not to have noticed my little brother right below me.

- N-not so close. - he muttered. A strong blush filled his face.

- Sorry Genya, but I can't go any further.

It was an honest answer. The box didn't seem to support one of us, let alone both. These bastards are sick!

A loud engine roar interrupted whatever my thoughts were.

- Where are they taking us? - the brunette said softly. It was obvious he was terrified.

- I don't know, but it must not be good. We were probably sold to some fucking idiot.

That didn't help calm Genya down. We stayed in silence for the rest of the trip.

We don't know how long we stayed like that, but the vehicle stopped after what felt like an eternity.

The sound of high heels echoed loudly in our sensitive ears before a female voice sounded loud and arrogant.

- Genya and Sanemi Shinazugawa. 16 and 18 years. Wolf hybrids. The youngest is the black wolf and the other the white.

I could feel the smirk in his words.

- Crazy bitch! I whispered, earning a nod of agreement from Genya.

I didn't quite understand the rest of the conversation, but in an instant, the box shook violently which made me accidentally step on Genya's tail. His ears lowered and he glared at me.

- Damn it, Sanemi! That hurt!

- Sorry. I raised my hands in surrender.

Whoever was carrying the box didn't much care that they had two hybrids inside a cramped space.

Fortunately, it didn't take long for us to reach our destination, I assumed after the movement stopped.

- Release them! - a cold voice made us shiver in anticipation.

The box was opened and we fell to the hard floor unceremoniously. Sensing several glances in our direction, I wrapped the tallest one in my arms protectively and growled at the men present in the office.

My instincts screamed "Danger" as I hugged Genya with unnecessary force, but he wasn't complaining about the situation.

- Hmm, they're not all bad. They will be useful to increase my collection. - what should be the Leader said in a smug tone.

- What do we do with them Sir?

- Separate the Omega and give me the Alpha.

I felt the brunette start to tremble in terror as the three men approached us. I resisted as long as I could, but two of them held me while the blonde took Genya from my arms.

- Genya!! I screamed at the top of my lungs as I desperately tried to reach him.

- Sanemi! - The brunette tried to get rid of the blonde's arms who just laughed in amusement.

All I could do was watch in pure horror as the door slammed shut and my little brother's voice slowly faded away.

My body began to shake with the anger and frustration that raged through me mercilessly. If the two men holding me cared, they didn't show it.

Strong arms lifted me easily and I wondered for a second how thin I must be for them to pull off such a feat. Unfortunately for me, I was carefully placed in the lap of the group leader.

Cold hands caressed my ears and I pulled away with a warning growl.

- Looks like we have a skittish puppy here. A satisfied smile filled the man's face.

A sudden grip turned my face toward his.

- Let go of me, you demon! - It came out a little strange, but I'm sure he understood.

A slap across my face was his only response.

- I hope you'll be more docile the next time we meet. - There was a clear threat in his grim face. - After all, you don't want your little brother to get hurt, do you?

The false sweetness in his last sentence sickened me, but I just nodded in agreement. I couldn't allow them to hurt Genya.

- Well! The others will explain the rules of this house to you. See you tomorrow night. He gestured towards the door. - Kokushibou will take you to the other hybrids. Don't try anything on the way!

I just nodded nervously as I got off his lap, my cheek still throbbing from the hard slap I'd taken. Without further ado, I followed the taller man hurriedly through the labyrinthine corridors. We went down a few flights of stairs until the brunette stopped in front of an ornate fort and pushed me into the room, then locked it.

- Gross. - I muttered.

I looked around the huge plush bedroom on alert. Ears raised to catch any suspicious sounds.

- Looks like we have new people here! A smug voice echoed through the room.

- What the hell? Get out of where you are before I kick your ass!

He wasn't in the mood for silly pranks.

- Oh, hello young man! - a loud voice said behind me.

I turned in time to see a tiger approaching with a smile.

- I'm Rengoku Kyoujuro! It is a pleasure to meet you!

Frankly, this guy doesn't know how to turn the volume down?

- I'm Uzui Tengen! - a second voice said.

I turned towards him, making sure the voice I'd heard earlier belonged to the albino.

I stared at the tall man with eyes wide with surprise. Uzui was a white tiger. One of the hybrids at the top of the rarest list.

(I edited Uzui's picture so his ears are white)

- What's the matter, cutie? Never seen a white tiger before? He gave me a smirk.

A frown formed on my face. I really hope these two aren't hard to deal.

I hope you enjoyed 💕

See you soon 💚

🇧🇷

Demon Slayer Hybrid AU (Sanemi Shinazugawa)

Parte 2

Um baixo choramingo foi o que me acordou.

Abri meus olhos lentamente enquanto a névoa densa do tranquilizante se afastava aos poucos da minha mente. Meu corpo estava dolorido, provavelmente pela falta de mudança de posição durante um longo período, o que me fez soltar um baixo gemido de dor. Com a intenção de alongar um pouco meu corpo e acabar com esta sensação incômoda, estiquei levemente o meu braço apenas para ser impedido por algum tipo de obstáculo. Uma parede talvez? Balançando a cabeça para afastar de vez a névoa da inconsciência, olho ao redor e noto que o que me impedia não era bem uma parede. Era uma caixa. Eles me colocaram em uma droga de caixa!!

Agora totalmente desperto, uma onda de preocupação me invade ao lembrar dos acontecimentos anteriores.

- Mas que merda! Genya?!

- Estou bem aqui, Sanemi! - sua voz soou um pouco irritada.

Olho para a direção da voz e um leve rubor preenche a minha face. Eu estava bastante sedado para não ter notado o meu irmão mais novo bem abaixo de mim.

- N-não tão próximo. - ele murmurou. Um forte rubor preenchia o seu rosto.

- Perdão Genya, mas não posso me afastar mais.

Foi uma resposta sincera. A caixa não parecia suportar um de nós, quem diria os dois. Estes bastardos são doentes!

Um alto rugido de motor interrompeu quaisquer que fossem meus pensamentos.

- Para onde estão nos levando? - o moreno disse baixinho. Era óbvio que ele estava apavorado.

- Não sei, mas não deve ser bom. Provavelmente fomos vendidos para algum idiota de merda.

Isso não ajudou a acalmar Genya. Nós seguimos em silêncio pelo resto da viagem.

Não sabemos por quanto tempo ficamos assim, mas o veículo parou depois do que pareceu uma eternidade.

O som de saltos altos ecoou alto em nossos ouvidos sensíveis antes que uma voz feminina soasse alta e arrogante.

- Genya e Sanemi Shinazugawa. 16 e 18 anos. Híbridos de lobo. O mais novo é o lobo negro e o outro o branco.

Eu podia sentir o sorriso malicioso em suas palavras.

- Vadia louca! - sussurrei, ganhando um aceno de concordância por parte de Genya.

Não entendi bem o resto da conversa, mas em um instante, a caixa balançou violentamente o que me fez pisar acidentalmente na cauda de Genya. Suas orelhas abaixaram e ele me fitou irritado.

- Porra, Sanemi! Isso doeu!

- Desculpe. - levantei minhas mãos em rendição.

Seja lá quem estava carregando a caixa, não se importava muito com o fato de ter dois híbridos dentro de um espaço apertado.

Felizmente, não demorou muito para chegarmos ao nosso destino, presumi após a movimentação ser interrompida.

- Solte-os! - uma voz fria nos fez estremecer em antecipação.

A caixa foi aberta e nós caímos no chão duro sem cerimônias. Sentindo vários olhares em nossa direção, envolvi o mais alto em meus braços de maneira protetora e rosnei para os homens presentes no escritório.

Meus instintos gritavam "Perigo" enquanto eu abraçava Genya com força desnecessária, mas ele não estava reclamando devido a situação.

- Hum, não são de todo ruim. Serão úteis para aumentar a minha coleção. - o que deveria ser o Líder disse em tom presunçoso.

- O que fazemos com eles Senhor?

- Separe o Ômega e me entregue o Alfa.

Senti o moreno começar a tremer de pavor quando os três homens se aproximaram de nós. Resisti o máximo que pude, mas dois deles me seguraram enquanto o loiro tirava Genya dos meus braços.

- Genya!! - gritei a plenos pulmões enquanto tentava desesperadamente alcançá-lo.

- Sanemi! - o moreno tentou se desvencilhar dos braços do loiro que apenas ria em diversão.

Tudo o que eu pude fazer foi assistir com puro horror a porta se fechando e a voz do meu irmão mais novo desaparecendo aos poucos.

Meu corpo começou a tremer com a raiva e a frustração que me atingiam sem piedade. Se os dois homens que me seguravam se importavam, eles não demonstraram.

Braços fortes me ergueram com facilidade e eu me perguntei durante um segundo, o quão magro deveria ser para que realizassem tal façanha. Para a minha infelicidade, fui colocado com cuidado no colo do líder do grupo.

Mãos frias acariciaram minhas orelhas e eu me afastei com um rosnado de advertência.

- Parece que temos um cachorrinho arisco aqui. - um sorriso satisfeito preencheu a face do homem.

Um aperto brusco virou meu rosto em direção ao dele.

- Me solte, seu demônio! - saiu um pouco estranho, mas tenho certeza de que ele entendeu.

Um tapa estalado em meu rosto foi a sua única resposta.

- Espero que seja mais dócil na próxima vez que nos encontrarmos. - havia uma ameaça clara em seu rosto sombrio. - Afinal, você não quer que o seu irmãozinho se machuque, não é?

A falsa doçura em sua última frase me enojava, mas eu apenas acenei em concordância. Não podia permitir que eles machucassem Genya.

- Bom! Os outros irão te explicar as regras desta casa. Te vejo amanhã à noite. - ele gesticulou em direção a porta. - Kokushibou te levará até os outros híbridos. Não tente nada no caminho!

Apenas assenti nervosamente enquanto saía do seu colo, minha bochecha ainda latejando pelo forte tapa que havia levado. Sem mais delongas, segui o homem mais alto de forma apressada pelos corredores que mais pareciam um labirinto. Descemos alguns lances de escadas até o moreno parar em frente a uma forta ornamentada e me empurrar para dentro do quarto, trancando em seguida.

- Grosso. - murmurei.

Olhei ao redor do enorme quarto luxuoso em estado de alerta. Orelhas levantadas para captar qualquer som suspeito.

- Parece que temos gente nova por aqui! - uma voz presunçosa ecoou pelo quarto.

- Que diabos? Saia de onde estiver antes que eu chute a sua bunda!

Não estava com humor para brincadeiras idiotas.

- Oh, olá jovem! - uma voz alta disse atrás de mim.

Me virei a tempo de ver um tigre se aproximando com um sorriso.

- Sou Rengoku Kyoujuro! É um prazer lhe conhecer!

Francamente, esse cara não sabe como abaixar o volume?

- Sou Uzui Tengen! - uma segunda voz disse.

Me voltei para a sua direção, tendo certeza de que a voz que tinha ouvido anteriormente pertencia ao albino.

Fitei o homem alto com olhos arregalados de surpresa. Uzui era um tigre branco. Um dos híbridos no topo da lista dos mais raros.

(Eu editei as orelhas de Uzui para que ficassem brancas)

- Qual o problema, gracinha? Nunca viu um tigre branco antes? - ele me direcionou um sorriso debochado.

Uma carranca se formou em meu rosto. Eu realmente espero que estes dois não sejam difíceis de aturar.

Espero que tenham gostado 💕

Até breve 💚

#fanfic #anime #original character #history #história #demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #kny sanemi #sanemi #sanemi shinazugawa #kny genya #genya shinazugawa #kimetsu no yaiba douma #akaza #rengoku kyoujurou #rengoku #kny uzui #uzui tengen #muzan kibutsuji #AU #alternate universe

[emberstoriesandtales]

The Architect's Daughter (Felix Richter x Daughter!Reader)

(In this, the reader is Felix's child since 1, I don't think they said the gender of the unborn child, and 2, I was wondering how everyone would react with the child Felix told them about was in the entity's realm all grown up when they only heard about the child not being born yet, and also, gonna have it where the reader's mom and Felix's girlfriend be American and they met when she was traveling abroad. Also since there wasn't really anything known about his girlfriend either from what I read in the lore of Felix. And I don't know the year so I'm gonna make it present day for when the reader graduates. Also a little hint at Leon S. Kennedy x Reader)

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Congratulations to the class of 2021.

Y/N had never been more excited to hear those words, she basically counted down the days till graduation.

She was also so excited to start up college to work her way into becoming an architect just like her dad.

She never knew him personally, but her mother told her all about him, and that he went missing a couple months before she was born.

Grasping her diploma, valedictorian scholarship, and her valedictorian certificate in her hands, she started to look around for her mother in the crowd.

As minutes went by with no luck, Y/N made her way to the auditorium to retrieve her purse before going back out to look for her mom.

"Okay, now where did I sit earlier?" She mumbled to herself as she tried to look for her purse amongst the rows of chairs, eventually finding it and taking her phone out to call her mom.

But as she got to the isle to head up to the door, the air turned bitter cold as the lights started to flicker. Turning around, fear started to build up as black fog started to creep towards her from the back of the auditorium.

Running towards the doors with her things, she tried to push open the doors, but they wouldn't budge.

"The fuck?! Hey! Someone let me out!" She shouted as she pounded on the door.

There was no response.

No noise, no talking, nothing.

Nausea started to settle in as the black fog reached her and began to wrap around her until it fully consumed her.

When the doors finally opened, everyone who heard the screams of Y/N only found her purse, certificate, scholarship, and her phone, which was receiving a call from her mother.

But Y/N was nowhere to be found.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

When the fog finally faded from her vision, Y/N found herself standing in the middle of the woods.

The dark trees towered over her as the moonlight shined through, barely lighting the area infront of her.

Where was she?

"Another new survivors, man the entity is really stepping her game up with bringing in new victims." A voice spoke up.

Y/N spun around to see a figure leaning next to a tree.

What really confused her and creeped her out was that he was dressed up like Ghostface from the Scream movies.

"I'm sorry what? The Entity? Victims? Where the hell am I?" She asked.

"This is the Entity's realm, and I'm not even sure what the Entity is doll. Anyway, the names Danny." He said with a small wave before tilting his head, as if he was studying her.

"You look kinda familiar..."

Y/N frowned.

She never seen this guy before in her life, how does he even find her familiar?

"Wait!"

He then reached into a pocket of his jacket and took out a square piece of paper.

"I knew it, you look just like this Richter guy."

This threw Y/N off a bit, this guy knew her dad, so was her dad here? Was he was alive this entire time?

"Richter? Felix Richter?"

Danny nodded.

"Yeah, you know him?"

Tears formed as she realized, after eighteen years of her life, she was finally going to be able to meet her dad.

"He's my dad... he dissapeared before I was born." She replied.

"Wait, your the unborn child that he mentioned he was going to have before he arrived? Man, imagine his face when he finds out your his kid. He said he arrived here before he could even find out your gender."

He then grabbed her hand and pulled her along with him though the woods.

"So you must have been taken after graduating? Since you have that medal?"

Looking down at the valedictorian medal she recieved, she nodded.

"Yeah, I graduated top of my class."

"Nice, congrats then."

A glowing light caught Y/N's attention as they got to a clearing.

There were cabins all around a campfire, where there were many people either talking, playing cards, playing catch with a frisbee.

There was also a woman playing guitar while some others listened.

"Where is my dad?" She asked.

Danny took a moment to look around, then pointed a gloved finger towards a man, who was sitting down next to the woman playing guitar.

He was wearing a blue suit with blonde hair brushed back, and a small beard growing.

Y/N smiled, excited to finally meet him in person, instead of just looking at a photo of him in her locket, that she wore around her neck.

"Well, see ya. Hopefully not in a trial together." He said before running off.

Y/N looked back towards her dad, her heart racing in her chest, nervous and excited.

Stepping more into the light of the fire, everyone looked up at the girl as some voices spoke up. Everyone clearly surprised to see her.

"Another survivor?"

"Poor girl..."

She looked away, not use to all the attention.

Sure she was fine with things like public speaking, but the looks of pity and worry from so many people, it didn't feel that good.

"Hi hun, my name is Kate Denson what's your name?" The woman who was playing the guitar earlier, placed down her guitar and made her way over to the eighteen year old.

"Y/N, Y/N Richter." She responded as she fidget with her graduation ring that her mom gave her as a graduation gift.

"Wait, Richter? Your related to Felix?" A man with a prosthetic hand asked as everyone looked over at Felix.

"Yeah, he's my dad."

Felix, who was looking at the girl, realized something.

This girl looked just like his girlfriend, but he also saw a few of his features mixed in with her.

"Y/N... I remembered going through names of my child... if it was a girl, Y/N."

The architect could feel tears form as he realized that this was his daughter, his daughter that he didn't meet yet.

He hurried over and wrapped the girl up in a fatherly embrace.

"Nice to meet you dad..." Y/N mumbled as she hugged him tight.

"It's nice to meet you as well Y/N."

"Looks like Leon's got googly eyes for the new girl."

Felix and Y/N looked over to see said cop glaring at Ace, his cheeks pretty red.

"Shut up Ace." He snapped back.

"Okay, knock it off. Ace, leave Leon alone." The gambler rolled his eyes before going back to the card game that he and a few others were playing earlier.

"And Leon..."

The young man looked at the architect, still blushing a bit.

"If you do like her, you better not hurt her feelings, or I'll send Kazan after you."

"Dad!" Y/N exclaimed, also blushing a bit.

She looked at Leon for a moment before a small smile formed.

"Sorry tochter, but I have missed a lot of your life already. I'm just watching out for you." He said as he rubbed her arm, noticing the valedictorian stole.

"Graduated Valedictorian, my little girl is all grown up and so smart. Congratulations." He said as he took her graduation cap off and kissed her head before leading her towards the campfire, wanting to get to know his daughter more.

#dead by daylight #dead by daylight x reader #felix richter x reader #dbd felix richter #dbd felix #father daughter relationship

[ughdontbeboring]

Highway to heaven

ok so uh…this is my first time posting something I’ve written, idk why this particular one keeps begging to be posted it’s antsy af and I hurt my own feeling, I wrote it monthsssss ago and just went back to add to it sooooo here yall go 😩 also no permission giving for anyone to reuse this in any form, but please reblog, like, leave nice comments all that good shit 😘

also written with PoC in mind (though the only mention of something specific is hair) and not really sure what warnings to tag so if any just let me know!

now let me go hide 😁😁😁

x

She stretched one of her arms out the window, Feeling the air rushed past it, pushing her arm up and down. Her smile completely contagious. She was the happiest she had been in the past few weeks and August knew it. He didn’t need to be around her that whole time to know, he always seen it the moment she saw him and her mind could process he was alive and back with her.

Since he came home less then 24hrs ago from his most recent mission, he hadn’t seen the smile drop from her face, he knew she could say the same about him.

Usually he drove but he couldn’t resist when she begged him to let her drive his super expensive white sports car. He obviously didn’t get to drive it much as he was always away, and when he was home he mostly spent it trapping her in their bed or away on a surprise vacation, like today. After hours of catching up and fucking her on every surface of their shared home he surprised her with a week away in a cabin. The cabin was his own and was well equipped to deal with anything that may arise, completely secured.

He knew he could be called back into work at any moment but he had good insight that he’d have at least a week where he wouldn’t have to leave her or the cabin. Maybe just for more champagne and her favorite dairy free ice cream depending on her mood during their stay but that was it about the only thing that could get August to leave.

Her laughter brought him back to the present moment. He smiled as he turned to her.

“Yes?”

“I asked if you like what you see Walker” she said throwing him a quick flirty look over her shoulder before focusing on the road. “Your staring at me all doe eyed” she giggled.

He laughed and shook his head, he was completely smitten and they both knew it. Anyone who spent time around them could see it was mutual. For as hard and cruel of a man as August was and seen as, she was his weakness. His weakness and strength actually, because he would do any and everything for her and that could be used in either way. She was the light in his life and she loved him completely, wholly.

“I love what I see actually” He answered staring at her again, watching her bite her lip as a smile took over her face. Her eyes caught his for a moment as she ran her hand down the side of his face, nails and fingertips leaving a tingling trail behind, as he stored this moment and everything about her in his memory, he would need it for when he left on this next mission. Bringing anything personal or that would lead anyone back to her was not an option for him. She was well aware of what he did and why she couldn’t call, only wait for his calls. He pushed it from his mind, praying it would be a while before he had to leave her again.

She hummed to the music as they noticed the traffic up ahead, must be road work August thought. His fingers tapped the car door as his arm lazily hung half in and half out. He noticed her head snap down causing her long box braids to sway. She looked toward her feet, her face confused when she looked back up ahead of them.

“Love, what’s wrong?”

Her stomach dropped and her skin turned to ice as she her eyes went back and forth between her foot and the traffic coming closer up ahead. She was unable to form words to tell him, her mind raced with what to do. Her face turned to him completely in fear, mouth slightly parted in a silent cry. August body went tense, rigid as a steel rod as he slowly grasped what he thought was happening, it can’t be.

The brakes

Someone cut the breaks

August looked up at the traffic in the distance that they were speeding towards, he had to push back the thought who and of when someone would have had the opportunity and focus on what was happening. His mind snapped out the fog when he heard her.

“August!”

She was trying to pump the break, willing it to start working as tears ran down her face.

“August it isn’t working!” She yelled.

August scanned the scene in front of them. Up ahead was dead stop traffic, and on their sides, woods and then metal railings dividing it from the other on coming traffic. There was no clear opening to drive into. The traffic would cause head on collision which had a high chance of death and the railing along the left sides of them also had a high death rate surprisingly. The trees and boulders of the right side weren’t an option either. He couldn’t eject them out of the car at this speed, especially with the traffic that’s following further behind them. Cars wouldn’t have enough time to stop if they didn’t notice their body’s on the pavement. Another sure death.

He looked up at her as her own eyes searched looking for an exit, an out point. Her face slowly succumbing to grief as she realized they had none. Every option a high chance of death with the speed they were going.

The knot in August stomach was a feeling he had never felt before. He had been so careful with her, to keep her out of the line of danger. Some how he had missed something and literally put her in the front seat of danger.

“Turn the steering wheel towards me and get down! By the time we make impact-“

“No!....No!” She yelled through her tears and sobs, she had realized what he was trying to do. He wanted to take the impact, he wanted his life on the line not hers.

“Please August! There must be another-“

“There isn’t!! Turn the wheel now!! We don’t have time!” He yelled as the traffic got closer. Their speed closing the distance fast.

Her eyes danced over his face for a moment, a dreadful feeling growing in her stomach and spreading through her body, it was completely unbearable. She couldn’t live life without him. It wasn’t possible, she loved him too much. She would die for him.

“I’m so sorry August, I love you” she said as she stared into his eyes, praying he seen everything she wouldn’t have time to say to him again. Her words were a wrecking ball into his very existence, it shattered his world.

His hands shot out to grab the wheel, as the understanding what she was saying hit him. It was too late though, she was turning the wheel and swinging the car in the opposite direction from what he instructed. If he tired to grab the wheel now he’d only cause the car to flip into traffic. He had no doubt her side would make impacted as the car swung and headed to slam into traffic.

She couldn’t take her eyes off him, she wouldn’t. She wanted him to be the last thing she saw even if it meant watching his desperate fight to save her. His eyes wild and full of fear, tears falling freely as he looked back and forth frantically before they finally landed on hers. Defeated.

She was a lively young woman she loved life before August BUT life with August was unmatched. So when she smiled at August, the kind of smile that told him she had been happier in the last 4 years with him then she had been her whole life, he felt his blood go cold.

No. He couldn’t give up. Not ever, especially not when she smiled at him like she was willing to lose it all to save him. She already saved August everyday of his life since he’s meet her. Saved him over and over again without even knowing it. When she snuggled into his chest late at night, barely awake, running her fingers through the lite fur of his chest hairs and lazily kissing the same spot she saved August, save him from night terrors of all the horrible things he’s done. When they swam naked in the Caribbean ocean off a secluded beach on that one vacation early on in their relationship and her wet body pressed into his begging for more kisses under the moonlight she saved him from ever wondering what life without love was like. What could life ever be without her? That kinda of world didn’t make sense to August.

August grabbed at her to pull her closer to his side, but her seatbelt prevented him from shielding her body with his when they felt the impact and then instantly the loud crash and breaking of glass completely over taking his senses before everything went black..

part 2 unknown

#august walker fanfiction #august walker x reader #august walker angst #Angsty august walker #henry cavill fanfic #august Walker fanfic #Henry cavill #august walker #August x PoC reader #Soft august #Soft august walker #UGHWRITES #UGHAUGUST

[orionwhispers]

Swan Song// Thomas Shelby 🍸

(A.N )- holy shit. holy shit. you guys... its finally finished. it took months but its finally done!!here is the long awaited and highly requested lolita wedding. im so happy you guys finally get to read it! i feel like my baby has all grown up lol. there might be errors and stuff bc its 16k words and im exhausted but hopefully you enjoy it. thanks for being so wonderful and patient. ily) also sorry for all the pics in the moodboard being white i try and be inclusive but smh pinterest sucks sometimes, anyone is welcome here. we are all hoes for tommy)

Trigger Warnings; so much fucking fluff, implied smut, some angst and mention of past injury.

PART 1  PART 2

It was one of those dreamy midsummer nights.

When even the sun didn’t want to retire for the evening; the sky a rich, milky blue, and the air still thick and warm like honey. You were on the window seat, clad in one of Ada’s many wedding presents, a blush silk slip and matching robe, a gift she had brought back from her week in Boston.

You were happy. Irrevocably so. The floor and love seat crowded with the people you held closest to your heart, the room smelt of expensive vanilla candles and strawberry wine, and the deep throaty rumble of laughter filled every empty space.

It was perfect. Well - almost.

You missed him.

It was only one night apart, you had spent longer times separated when he went out of town for business or you had a rambunctious girls weekend with Ada and Esme - but still you missed him entirely.

You knew he missed you too. That much was obvious from the disdain on his face when Arthur and Polly laid bare their plans for the night before your wedding. There hadn’t been time for an engagement party let alone a bachelor party - a few weeks after announcing the news Tommy had been due to attend to some business in New York, and he was adamant that you were to come along. He wanted to treat you, show you the vibrant city and all of the glitz and glamour of Broadway, but you knew that was only part of the reason. He didn’t like you out of his sight for too long, the wound on your chest might have been puckering into a scar but the pain was still fresh in his mind and his overprotectiveness had tripled.

After a brilliant few weeks away in the big apple, filled with passionate, breathless kisses and red satin dresses and driving hand in hand down the Brooklyn bridge, you finally returned home - but much like the city you had just left, Thomas Shelby had no time for sleeping. He was knee deep in new deals and navigating his partnership with Alfie Solomon’s, as well as his new venture of manufacturing gin. Despite the long nights and the early mornings, you never felt neglected. You loved him, all of him, and that included his workhorse nature and tenacity. And besides, he struggled being away from you, finding himself noticing the lack of warmth in his office, when at home you would be perched on his lap, pressing dizzying kisses to the base of his neck. He missed the sound of your laugh and the way that you giggled, biting your lip innocently, making him want to bite it even harder.

He loved you, and that god awful summer had shown him that all he truly cared about was having you by his side. So for every night he was at the office, or every morning he was out of bed before you woke up, he made it up to you with a weekend away, or a signed first edition of your favourite book, or a piece of jewellery he had made for you. They might have been material things, but the meaning couldn’t be clearer, he was hopelessly, dangerously, completely, in love with you.

His main present to you though, arrived a few days after his sudden proposal in his office.

He originally wanted to take you into London, show you the finest jewellers by the water and let you choose anything that caught your eye - only the best for his best girl - but, after everything, his plans had changed.

Truthfully, marriage had been on the tip of his tongue since that very first day he locked eyes with you in the Garrison. He knew he had to have you, even before he knew your name, and by the time the two of you first kissed, tasting like sweet strawberries and cigarettes, he knew you would be the woman to take his.

But things got in the way. Marriage wasn’t as simple as it might have been for the people you passed in the streets. Marriage to him was like putting a target on your back, it meant your entire life being intertwined with his, the whole world knowing that you were the woman that made him fall to his knees. It would take everything from you, and the darkness would slowly start to seep into the light that surrounded you, and he needed to keep you safe for as long as he could. He knew he was going to marry you, it was just as clear in his mind as it was that he was the leader of the Blinders, you were the missing piece in his puzzle.

But of course, his plans were blown to smithereens when the bullet shattered your collarbone that summers eve. His visions of red roses and rich wine and getting on one knee, feeling like a goddamn kid again when you gave him that smile as he pushed the ring onto your finger, were flung to the wind. And instead, his honeyed words were swapped with breathless desire and need, whispered in your hair as you were cradled in his arms, in the afterglow of such a dreadful day.

The one thing he knew he could get right, however, was the ring.

It had to be special. It had to be you. Something soft and sweet and gentle, but with an edge - sharp and strong and beautiful. Of course, it would be impossible to find any diamond or pearl that could compete with your beauty, but he wanted you to have the best.

That wasn’t the only reason though.

It had more to do with the jewel that had hung around your neck that day at the ball, the one that haunted him when the sky got dark and you were fast asleep beside him. He had come so close to losing you, only a hair away from the girl he loved being buried, and the thought was driving him mad. He controlled every aspect of his life, but this was something completely out of his grasp, and he needed to stop his dangerous thoughts.

He hadn’t been superstitious since he was a boy chasing his brothers through fields of wildflowers and listening to Polly’s ramblings by the fire, but he had to rule out every possibility. So a few days after he proposed, and with the best doctor in Birmingham giving you the all clear (and triple checking that the house was secured and being watched by practically a small army of Blinders - and a stern warning to Michael, Isaiah and Finn that if even a hair on top of your head was misplaced by the time he got back, none of them would be able to have any children)- he set off.

He told you he was signing a deal in Manchester, but he was really only a few miles away, at the campsite where he had spent the majority of his youth. It was all rolling hills of deep emerald and jade, and fog that curled and twisted around his ankles, and for the first time in a long time, he felt out of place. He had chosen the ring with the help of Polly, who was adamant she knew your taste better than him, something he vehemently denied.

It was beautiful and unique, just like you, and he never felt such a profound rush of love quite like when he pictured slotting it onto your finger. It was big, but not overly so - nothing tacky or too much, Tommy knowing that you never wanted anything glimmering or gaudy and that you’d probably hit him and then faint if you knew the price. But, in his eyes - nothing was too expensive for his little girl. Besides, he particularly liked the way the ring shone in the light, imagining all the men that would fuck off and leave with their tail between their legs when they saw it and realised that the most beautiful woman in the room was already spoken for.

The diamond was brilliant and a “Princess” cut, something that made him smirk because it was one of his favourite pet names for you, and he couldn’t imagine anything more fitting. The band was solid gold, two different paths that intertwined and curled like summer vines, making him think of the lightness and whimsy you carried around you. What really sold him though, were the soft, twinkling rose quartz gems that cocooned the diamond.

“For protection.” Polly had muttered as he twisted the ring between his fingers under the dim lighting in the store. He had rolled his eyes when she spoke but secretly the meaning behind them made his gut twist. Protection was something that he needed you to have in abundance, even if it came from small crystals the size of a half grain of rice.

The ring was so perfect. So rare and alluring and undeniably you, and he walked out the door with the feeling of pure content, something that only even happened when he thought of you. But he knew there was more for him to do. He sent Polly home, ignoring the raised eyebrows she gave him and brushed off the sixth sense his Aunt had always had. And with the ring safely nestled in its plush navy box in his breast pocket, he drove off.

The campsite felt like the past. It felt as though he was visiting somewhere deep in the confines of his mind, somewhere that he had locked and stored away and forgotten about, only now being able to see through the thick haze of smog. He met the elderly woman by the doors of her caravan, noticing the difference between his sharp suit and the furs and shawls she had covering her body. She smiled and invited him in, pouring him a cup of something that smelt like sap and crisp autumn apples.

“It’s been a long time, Thomas.” She said, eyes so dark they almost looked black as she watched him curiously.

“That it has.”

“What brings you to this part of the woods then? I thought you would have forgotten about the rest of us.”

It was a dig, but he refused to rise to it. He wasn’t in the mood for petty jibes.

“I’ve been busy.”

“So I hear.” She exhaled, stirring her tea meticulously with a golden spoon. “They tell me you’re practically running the country.”

He smiled softly and falsely, digging his hand deep into his pocket. “Let’s cut to the chase, eh?” He pulled out the small box, opening it in his palm, and twisting it round so that the clear cut diamond was twinkling right before her.

She grinned, leaning forward on her elbows to get a better look. “It’s beautiful. Must have cost a pretty penny.”

“The woman it’s for is worth it.”

“I don’t doubt that.”

“I know why you’re here,Tom. The boys told me what happened at that party of yours.”

He cleared his throat, not liking the lack of control he had over the conversation.

“Right, well then. Just tell me what I need to know.”

She closed her eyes, muttering something under her breath, and Tommy sat back on his haunches, his eyebrows raised in disbelief. Was he really fucking doing this? Sitting in a caravan in the middle of fucking nowhere getting his jewellery cleansed by some batty old woman he knew as a child? It went against everything he believed in, and was the exact opposite of the calm and level headed way he ran his business.

But then he thought of you. And your light. Your sweetness and the sound of your laugh, the curve of your lips and the flowers you wore in your hair and the grass stains on your little white dresses. He thought of the scar that ran along your collarbone, and the feeling of white hot desperation that had coursed through him when he that you might not wake up.

You were worth it. Fuck sensibilities and rationality. He’d drive to the fucking ends of the earth if it meant that it would keep you even just a little bit safer.

After what felt like an age, the woman opened her eyes and raised her head. She used the edge of one of her many colourful scarves to wipe the surface of the gems, her hands moving in quick, rhythmic circles.

“It’s clean.” She said. “There’s nothing bad on it. At least, not that I can see.”

Tommy felt the anvil strapped to his chest suddenly fill and float like a balloon, but he didn’t let it show. Instead, he brushed off the relief flooding though his body, and straightened up. “Well I came to the best.”

She smiled, both smugly and bashfully, the way most women felt around Tommy. “That you did my love.”

His fingertips merely brushed the top of the roll of money he had stuffed in his pocket, and the elderly woman sat back, shaking her head at him.

“It’s on the house. Maybe you can bring your girl around one day, I know we’d all like to meet her.”

Not fucking likely he thought. No way in hell would he bring you to a place like this, whilst he still had good memory’s of his youth, he didn’t trust the people that still lurked in the fields around this place.

Wanting to settle the score, he held out a wad of notes. “I insist.”

“And I decline.”

He didn’t like the way the conversation had ended, it didn’t sit quite right with him. He liked to make his deals as open and closed as possible, money was the best way to seal a deal, he didn’t work with favours. “Right, well. Thank you for everything.”

He looked out of the windows of the caravan as he gathered his things. It was starting to get dark, the sky blushing like summer strawberries and freshly sliced peaches, the air still a little thick from the heat. All that he wanted now was to get home to you, everything else had faded to static in his ears. He bit back a grin as he thought of how you would smile, all teeth and round cheeks and wide eyes when he showed you the ring. He imagined it sitting pretty on your finger, the nudge of the jewel against his when you intertwined hands and the way it would dazzle at night, not nearly as beautiful as you as you laid beneath him, sweaty and breathless and ethereal.

As sudden as a gunshot, sharp words from behind him cut through his daydreams like a blade.

“Have you ever considered, Tom?”

He merely paused, not even bothering to spin on his heel and face her. He knew what she was going to say and yet it still felt like a knife digging into a fresh wound as she continued speaking.

“That maybe it’s not the jewels? Maybe it’s you?”

He wasn’t the type of man to back down from a fight, and he was the unrivalled champion of maintaining his composure and remaining calm under every type of pressure, but even he couldn’t deny the shivers that twisted around the bottom of his spine at the implication of her words.

“Yes. I have.”

He could feel her shifting behind him, ready to lure him in, tell him the thing that kept him up at night and clawed at his throat when he watched you sleep; that perhaps he was the poison that seemed to follow you like a dark cloud. He was much too selfish, far too infatuated with you to keep you at arms length. The deafening ache that perhaps you were the reason he finally felt alive, and that maybe he was the reason you would end up buried. 

He didn’t allow himself to think any more, tossing his cash towards her, not even bothering to check if she caught it or if it landed on the floor, instead he raised a hand and walked off, murmuring under his breath. “Keep the change.”

He waited until he was back in his car, with a cigarette between his lips and the sour smell of petrol and ash filling his lungs before he finally inhaled, glad to be out of the fucking fresh air.

—————————————————————

Your reaction was even better than he imagined.

It was dark by the time he eventually got home, and he didn’t miss the buzz of warmth that pulling into the driveway brought. It was bizarre, he had spent so long feeling nothing that meeting you had reignited everything inside of him, he felt like a boy again, nervous and elated to see the girl he loved.

The lights were on, reflecting through the windows like flickering candles, and a pleasant yellow glow engulfed the shadows in the gravel. He could hear voices, (mainly Arthur’s), deep low laughter and the sound of music all throughout the halls. He winced slightly, hoping that whatever ruckus his family had brought wasn’t keeping you from resting. He was certain that this impromptu gathering was his brothers idea of raising your spirits, but Tommy would have felt much more comfortable knowing that you were peaceful and recovering somewhere safe, knowing that you were far too polite to send his family away.

“What the fucks all this noise, eh?” He shouted as entered, his tone was sharp but even he couldn’t stop the tiny grin making its way onto his face as he watched Arthur and John drunkenly dance in the living room.

“Ay! You’re back? How did it go?” Arthur asked, holding out his arms in greeting as his speech slurred.

“Everything’s in order.”

“Hurrah!” Arthur swayed on unsteady legs like a sailor on the rough seas, and

“Bloody hell Arthur, what the fuck are you on?” John laughed,

“It’s a celebration, brother.”

Tommy pushed him aside playfully, tuning out the sound of their bickering as he strode further in the living room, eyes brushing past all of the faces crowded around, his heart stopping when he finally found the one he was after.

You were curled up on the sofa by the fireplace with your legs tucked underneath you, your face flushing deliciously, the spark slowly reigniting inside of you - and Tommy swore that he had never seen something so beautiful. Michael, Isaiah and Finn were crowded around you, looking much younger than their years, playing cards in their hands and big, toothy grins, occasionally accusing the other of cheating. Polly watched from beside the fireplace, something that had once been the beating heart of the house, a place where the two of you coexisted so magnificently. He thought of the flames from the logs and also from deep inside of him, devouring you completely on the hardwood floors, the sound of your moans mixing with the crackle and snap of the kindling. He hadn’t looked at the fireplace since you had been shot, it was too intimate, too personal, memories of early morning laughter and pure carnal hunger when the sun set, his fingertips pressing against the softness of your throat as you melted like paper under him.

Now though, it had been filled with empty wine bottles stuffed with candles, wax dripping and melting down their green glass necks, the room smelling like cherries and lavender. He knew you had put them there, and it made him exhale, because it no longer hurt to look at it, and he knew that eventually, the fireplace would be yours again.

Polly caught his eye from over the sofa, hers glittering and twinkling with suspicion of where her nephew had been, taking a long, poignant drag from her cigarette. He ignored her. He had no doubts that she was completely aware of what he had been doing, and that imagining him back at his roots was conjuring a particular mental image in her head, but right now that was the least of his concern.

He tore though the living room, almost colliding with a dozen bodies, it seemed Arthur had dug up every close acquaintance within twenty miles and invited them over. The room smelt like sour whisky and spilled wine, and he swore he could see his expensive furniture lowering in price by the minute.

He loved his family, he would do anything for them, but God he wished to the highest heavens that they would fuck off so he could spend some time with his girl. If it was up to him the house would be completely empty, nothing but the sound of your laugh and the thump of your heart, fuck everything else.

You were wrapped up in your poker game, head tilted back as you laughed at something Finn had whispered to you, the small creamy corner of your bandage poking out from the collar of your dress. Tommy swore inwardly, the sight making him falter. As quickly as the feeling came, he brushed it away, not wanting you to see him worry, not wanting himself to fall into old and dangerous habits.

Finn saw him first, his youngest brother looking impossibly boyish and playful as he laughed with his friends, a world away from the man he tried so hard to be. One look and he was on his feet, quickly swatting Isaiah and Michael and gathering the cards in his hands. Tommy patted his shoulder fondly, his eyes fixed firmly on you, watching your pupils dilate and sparkle when you finally caught sight of him.

“You’re back.”

Breathless. Angelic. Innocent. It took everything in him to not gather you in his arms and take you upstairs all for himself.

“And you should be in bed.”

He sat down next to you, his knee brushing against yours.

You smelt of home.

Of sweet cinnamon and strawberries and wildflowers, messy hair and woodsmoke. You finally smelt like yourself, not like the chemicals and disinfectants that now filled the halls, making him want to set his whole damn estate alight because the reminders of what they caused were too painful.

“I’ve been resting for weeks, Tommy. Let me have a little fun.”

You gave him that smile. The one that made his knees buckle. The one that would have made him sign his company over to you if you asked - not that there would ever be a time he would say no to you. It was bizarre, how you were sitting there with no makeup on, your hair tied back with a baby pink ribbon, and you were undoubtedly the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

“Alright, alright, enough with the pouting.” He winked at you, making a kaleidoscope of butterflies erupt in your stomach. If it had just been the two of you he would have leant in and kissed you stupid, but he didn’t want to give his drunken brothers something else to whoop and tease about. He would save his romantics for later, when you were alone, and he could take his well earned time and leisure to ravage you.

He pulled you close to him, wrapping an arm around the edge of the sofa and over your shoulders, keeping you as close and protected as he possibly could, the simple action comforting him immensely. You snuggled into him, his body so warm and firm and safe, and he pressed a kiss to your neck as you relaxed, his lips scorching you like a brand. He felt his whole body exhale, feeling at ease because he was with the people he loved most in the world, with you tucked into his side like you were carved there, and the feel of your fingertips ghosting over his chest. His life was so fast paced and hectic and his mind was whirring a mile a minute, but at that moment, the there was no where else he would rather be.

His patience lasted exactly 47 minutes. His composure and lenience with his family finally snapped when Arthur bet John that he could do a better handstand than him, proceeded to leap onto his hands, flail about disastrously and then crash right into the console table, shattering an array of fine china and imported vases.

“Oh John, look what you did ya’ stupid cunt.” He said when he got to his feet, his hands slashed to ribbons and blood dripping onto the carpet. Esme rolled her eyes, grabbing her brother in law by the collar and dragging him out of the room to bandage him up before he inevitably passed out from all the alcohol.

Tommy straightened out next to you as Mary quickly rushed in and gathered the glimmering shards with a dustpan and brush. He heaved himself to his feet, reluctant to withdraw from your side, and he cleared his throat once before speaking. “Alright, that’s enough for tonight, everybody fuck off.”

You rolled your eyes at his terrible bedside manner, tugging on the edge of his rolled sleeve playfully, making a small smile cross the edge of his lips. Polly pressed a hand to your shoulder as she herded the boys out of the room, each of them mumbling drunken goodbyes and pressing whisky stained kisses to your cheeks, mindful of the placement of their hands and your scar, mainly because of Tommy’s sharp, warning glare.

Johnny Dogs grumbled something along the lines of parting, but instead passed out face down on the carpet, his body rising and falling with heavy snores. Tommy waited rather impatiently as you said goodbye to the remaining guests, wanting nothing more than some well earned solace with his girl.

When you were finally alone, the moon dancing across your skin through the large open windows, soft music filling the room and the smell of sticky split wine following you both, he pulled you into his arms. He looked at your face and smiled. You were ethereal. Golden and glowing in the twilight, eyes sparkling like diamonds. Your face had changed a little in the time you had been together, your body and mind maturing and adapting, but you still looked so young. A breath of clear, fresh air amongst all of the smoke.

He lifted his hand to wipe a few specks of shimmering rose rouge from your cheeks, evidently left from where Esme hugged you goodbye, but you got there first, playfully taking his finger in your mouth and gently sucking and biting at his fingertip.

He felt a fire ignite in his stomach and his trousers tighten. How were you - so small and sweet and innocent, able to control his body like you were a master puppeteer and he was nothing but wood and string? It was baffling to him, an enigma that he craved to solve but knew that he never could. He was completely and incurably love sick.

You were going to be the death of him.

He pulled you even closer, freeing himself from your grip and taking your head in his hands, smashing his lips onto yours. You melted into him, practically putty in his hands. His teeth clashed against yours, the kiss was messy and desperate, as though you were two kids determined to make the most of the time you had alone. He felt everything wash off of him, all of his stress and tension melting down his spine like candle wax. Because, with your body flush against his and his mouth pressed up against your own, he was home.

You pulled away shyly and reluctancy, and he felt the absence of your warmth immediately. He moved to drag you back, not done with you just yet, but he followed your gaze to the man on the floor. Johnny had somehow managed to roll over onto his back, still asleep and snoring, but with his eyes half open, his gaze focused on the two of you. Tommy let out a rare, genuine laugh, and it made you feel like somebody had lit a firework in your chest. He wrapped his fingers against your own and tugged softly, his voice deep and rumbling like the ocean.

“Let’s go upstairs, princess. I’ve got something to give to you.”

Your room was safe and it was warm. It smelt like ripe peaches and fresh mint and rolling tobacco, like leather and lace; innocence and sin. It had finally become yours again, interlocked like your fingers, intertwined like your hearts, something so precious and belonging to just the two of you. It had broken his already shattered heart when you were separated, and looking at you now through heavy eyelids as you sat on your knees in bed, waiting expectantly for him to reveal his present, he took a moment to thank whoever was listening for giving him a goddamn angel.

“You need to stop buying me things, Tommy.” You scolded gently, shifting on your legs.

“I’ll do whatever I bloody feel like.” He replied, undoing his cuff links and loosing his tie. He liked to always be properly dressed and sharp, but around you he wanted nothing more than to lose himself in your sweet comfort.

You watched him, so beautiful and angelic looking under the yellow lights. You smiled to yourself at his mussed hair and natural pink pout; the side to him that only ever flared up around you. You kept your eyes trained on him as he rummaged around the room, taking off his jacket and folding it over a chair before turning around and pointing a finger at you.

“Close your eyes.”

You huffed. “Is that really necessary?”

“Close ‘em.”

You looked up at him teasingly, exhaling loudly before closing your eyes. You felt him moving around the room, listening to the soft creaks of the wood and the sound of his footsteps as he approached the bed. He lifted your arm and you giggled as his fingertips ran down your skin, stopping at the middle of your wrist, pressing a kiss to your pulse point. You opened your mouth to speak but before you could he pushed something onto your ring finger. Even with your eyes closed you could feel his smile.

“Open.”

It took you a moment to register what you were seeing, the surprise knocking the air right out of your lungs. Your eyes flickered from him back down to your ring, your mouth agape. You hadn’t really thought about an engagement ring, flashy diamonds weren’t really up your alley and with everything that had happened tradition seemed to have flown out of the window, but you should have known Tommy would always be one step ahead. It was beautiful. So brilliant and classic and totally you, and you could feel tears pricking behind your eyes, your mouth going dry.

“Oh, Tom! Oh, Tommy it’s beautiful!” All of your restraint was gone, and you leapt onto him, wrapping your legs around his waist as he caught you effortlessly, like he always would. He let out a laugh, slightly stunned from your reaction, and the feeling of your lips pressing hot, quick kisses all across his skin. He held you tight, burying his nose in your hair and pulling you impossibly closer.

He felt your lips at the base of his ear, brushing against his flesh as you spoke. “This must have cost a fortune!”

He shook his head, not even needing words to convey his feelings. To him it was obvious. Nothing would ever be too much for you.

You admired it from over his shoulder, watching the hypnotising way that it glimmered in the light. He gently walked forward, leaning you down so that you were in contact with the bed, tilting up your face so that you were looking him in the eye.

“There’s something else.”

“Tommy - ”

He had already started unbuttoning his shirt, and you sat back and watched as his nimble fingers looped down his torso, finally grabbing something underneath and holding it towards you.

You inhaled sharply, feeling yourself floating.

He had your name engraved on a silver dog tag, much like the ones he had thrown into the cut with Freddie along with his medals of honour. This was what mattered to him, your name carved into the metal, dangling right next to his heart, because it was only you who owned it.

Your eyes met, filled with love and lust and true happiness. A week ago you had been lying in bed, terrified that Tommy might not be in love with you, but now it was clear that the two of you were bound together, that you were the safety of a lighthouse to his wandering ship.

He kissed you - greedily and open mouthed, and you fell into him, letting him devour you. His hands worked quickly, desperate to see all of you, everything laid bare for him, with nothing but the ring glinting under the pale light of the moon. He kissed your neck, collarbone, throat, his hands and calloused fingertips brushing your flesh.

“I love you, (Y/N).” He said and you melted. You never felt short of love around him, but hearing those three words was like a hit of heroin, and you were desperate for more. You knew that he was as well, that he craved your stability and the sweetness you gave him, and you pulled his head from the crook of your neck, getting lost in those ocean eyes.

“Oh, Tommy. I love you.”

—————————————————————

The weeks passed, and the ring on your finger still gave you goosebumps when you saw it - a reminder of the man you loved. Life continued, business slowly dripping back into your days, the hazy bubble of love you had entered starting to pop but never fully dissolving. Tommy was adamant that you shouldn’t start back at work, making it very clear to you that he didn’t want you doing anything until he was beyond certain that you were completely healed.

You hated being stuck in the house however, and still managed to find a way to get a very reluctant Michael to sneak in some accounting work for you to do. Something that made Tommy see red when he found out, only to have you pout and preen and make all of his anger subside, although Michael wasn’t as lucky.

Wedding planning hadn’t been on your mind, not with business booming or the wonderful trip to New York. You were happy with everything, dizzied with love and lust and laughter, and whilst your finger had gotten much heavier, there was nothing in your relationship you wanted to change.

That didn’t stop Polly or Ada however from trying to plan the best party England had ever seen.

You remembered a sleepy Sunday morning with the two of them, and the shrill sound they both made when you said that you didn’t want a big wedding.

“What? Finally something bloody good happens to this family and you don’t want us to celebrate?”

You rolled your eyes, dunking your biscuit into your coffee with a smile. “I’m not saying we can’t celebrate, I’m just saying that I haven’t really thought about it, I just want something small.”

“Small? Every woman has dreamt of her wedding day!”

You looked over at Ada, wanting her to back you up against such traditionalist views. Instead, she held up her hands and laughed, shrugging her shoulders. “I hate to admit it, (Y/N) but I agree with Pol! It’s about time this family had something good happen, and you and Tom deserve a bloody wonderful day. I’ve never seen a love story quite like yours.”

You smiled at her kindness but didn’t let up, stirring your tea with your matching spoon.“I don’t want a fuss! I don’t need a big wedding to be happy, I just need him.”

“Well that’s sweet.” Polly interjected. “But I want to buy some new furs and get drunk and wake up next to a man who likes to buy me diamonds.”

You laughed out loud.

“Since when do you need a man to buy you diamonds?” Ada snorted, staring down her aunt over her strawberry filled pastry.

“I don’t. But they always look better when they’ve been bought by someone else.”

You sighed, watching the two of them playfully bicker, feeling so grateful that the stars had aligned and they were now your family.

“So you don’t have any plans? Not even a date or a dress in mind?” Polly asked, her brisk voice cutting through the banter.

“No.” You smiled. “The only thing I’m sure about is the groom.”

Polly rolled her eyes. “Well that’s going to need to change.”

——————————————————————

Slowly but surely you started to fall back into old habits and patterns, picking up where you left off at the Garrison, and meeting Michael and Isaiah for drinks in the city. Tommy was reluctant to loosen his grip at first, so used to having you all over him in the comfort of your own home, safe and warm under the protection of his watchful gaze and gentle hands. He knew that he didn’t own you, and that he couldn’t keep you under lock and key like a prisoner, but he spent those first few weeks anxiously pacing in his study, dreading the phone ringing and finding that you had once again been hurt because of him.

He kept his work as separate from you as he could. He knew you wanted to be by his side through everything, but the wound was too fresh for him, too raw, and he needed to know that you were safe. So he kept his sins and misdemeanours away from you, making his home his sanctuary and you his oasis, finding religion in your lips and solace in your touch.

You were in no hurry to arrange anything. As much as you loved the idea of Tommy being your husband, you were happy to just let things slowly fall into place and try to regain whatever normalcy you had lost - but your future in laws had different plans.

Polly was a whirlwind. She spent the majority of her free time writing letters and phoning different market vendors from all over the world, her office filled with sugar icing and the finest loose leaf tea that money could buy, all gifts from those wanting to cater what was set to be the “wedding of the century.”

You didn’t mind - even when she stole you away for an entire work day to pick out cutlery and matching table runners, or you came back from the department store with pin pricks up and down your body from hours of having dresses fitted. She was happy, and when darkness seemed to follow the family like a storm cloud, you were adamant at grasping at whatever you could get, even if it wasn’t quite what you envisioned.

You knew Tommy found the whole thing hilarious. How his stoic and level headed Aunt had been swept up in lavender and lace, snapping at bakers over mango whipped frosting and arguing about the best way to cook lamb. It made him so damn happy though, when you came home after a long day - eyes tired but sparkling, face flushed and glowing, the way that he always wanted you to be. The distraction was what you needed, something sugar coated and dreamy to blur everything that had happened, and he knew that you were in great hands with Polly.

He couldn’t even deny that he was looking forward to the day. He knew more than anything that he wanted you to be his wife, and whilst he loved shiny, expensive things, all he truly needed was you by his side. He didn’t want a fuss, he wanted whatever you did, but imagining you all wide eyed and honey lipped at the alter, rings forever symbolising your connection, the sound of your first name with his last.

Well, that he liked.

Even though you were feeling a little out of your depth amongst all of the wedding planning, there were some things that you knew that you wanted. Like, the powder pink roses from the bushes Tommy had gifted you for your birthday to line the stairway, and ocean blue forget me nots in the bouquet - to match his eyes. You even had a hazy vision of what you wanted your dress to be, the hours spent walking through boutiques in London with Ada paying off as you debated A line, trumpet, and ball gown style dresses.

The main thing you were certain about, however, was who you wanted by your side throughout the whole thing. You had a feeling he knew something like this was coming, he always did have a way of knowing what you were thinking, but even Michael wasn’t expecting you to leap out of his wardrobe hand in hand with Finn, holding out a small cupcake with a candle on the top one rainy evening.

“Holy shit!” He squealed, watching as you and his cousin broke down in fits of laughter, clutching each other as you toppled onto the floor, jackets and shirts trailing behind you.“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Surprise!” You managed to say in between deep throaty giggles. “We wanted to catch you off guard!”

“Well you fucking did.” He tutted, “Hiding in my wardrobe! Nearly fucking shat myself.”

Your laughter was infectious, and soon all three of you were close to tears, your bodies exhausted and elated, gripping onto one another to stop from completely collapsing.

“So what was the point of this ambush, then?” He asked finally, his hands on his knees as he gasped for air, his face slowly returning to its normal colour.

You thrust the cupcake under his nose, the tip of the flame narrowly missing singeing the little hairs on his upper lip. “I want you to be my maid of honour! Well, man of honour.” You corrected quickly.

“You want me to be your what?”

Quick to silence his objections, you added - “Finn’s going to be flower girl!”

“Flower boy.” He interjected, “Katie’s flower girl. I’m just doing you a favour.”

“Yeah. Right.”

You and Michael locked eyes for a moment, challenging the other with your gaze. After a tense minute of silence, he broke out in a smile, one of the classic, cheesy ones that you loved so much.

“Do I have to wear a dress?”

You grinned. “Only if you want to.”

He threw his arms in the air in mock defeat, and he seemed so much younger, reminding you of running barefoot with him through raspberry fields, and throwing pennies down a pretty little well.

“Alright. Okay. Yes! Bloody hell.”

You leapt into his arms and Finn whooped triumphantly, partly pleased for you but mostly happy that he wasn’t the only member of the family who had somehow been talked into something he was bound to be teased over.

You felt Michael press a kiss to the crown of your head, his words getting muffled by your loose hair. “God, does Tommy even know what he’s got himself in for with you?”

You smiled, as sweet as spun sugar.

“Nope.”

—————————————————————-

As much as you wanted to stay in the rose tinted bubble that wedding planning had created, more and more problems with the business started to arise, and everything had to be put on the back burner - but it never dampened your spirits.

The hot summer days bled into crisp autumn nights, and you were trading your short lavender dresses for fur lined coats and boots. You celebrated Christmas with everyone, and discovered that a day you never used to enjoy was now your favourite, all because of the man you would up beside.

New Years passed in a flurry of drunken kisses and gold dresses and dancing until the sun rose. You vaguely remember finding Arthur passed out in the bathtub, surrounded by ice and champagne, the gramophone shaking the paintings on the walls. Your main memory was Tommy pulling you down the hall with him, away from the rest of the family, kissing you right as the clock struck midnight with hands tangled in your hair and a smile on his lips.

He often left for weeks at a time, work taking him up and down the country, and that meant that every morning and night you spent together was treasured.

One particular spring morning, when the air was starting to warm up and the days getting a little longer, you were sprawled on Tommy’s lap in the garden, reading from your novel whilst he read the paper. The day was less than half way though and you had already spent the entire morning in bed, making up for all the time you had lost. Now you leafed through your book with strawberry stained fingers, the curl of cigarette smoke twisting around you both.

Tommy had made it certain that he was not to be bothered that day. It had been almost an entire month of nothing but speaking over the phone and stolen kisses before he had to up and leave again, and the only thing he goddamn wanted was to do absolutely nothing with you. He was exhausted, not that he would ever admit it, but because you knew him better than absolutely everyone, you forced him to take a break before the man you loved completely crumbled like a bourbon biscuit.

So when you knew that he was coming back, you gave Mary strict orders to ignore all phone calls or mail regarding the business until the weekend was over. She had happily obliged, so you and Tom were both confused when you saw her running through the grass in her wingtips, her hands still soapy and wet from doing the dishes.

“Oh Mr Shelby! And Mrs Shelby!” She called, her voice so shrill that a few birds even took flight. “Isn’t it wonderful?”

Tommy sat up as best he could with you on his lap, his arms snaking around your waist to stop you from toppling over. You could feel the cigarette moving with his lips as he spoke, his accent deep and throaty in your ear.

“Mary? What is it?”

She didn’t reply, instead thrusting a sage green and gold piece of paper at you. You caught it before it fell to the floor, and let out a loud, genuine laugh when you read the script. You felt Tommy leaning over you shoulder, and felt the rumble of his body as he laughed with you.

“Well,” He said finally, pressing his lips to your neck. “Guess we know what we’re doing next month, Princess.”

On July 20th

Please join us for the union of Mr Thomas Shelby and (Y/N, Y/L/N).

The wedding of the century!

————————————————————————————

Polly had organised everything. Whilst you had been dealing with the accounting from the Garrison and Tommy had been building his business, Polly had managed to do her job, and single handily plan a wedding.

Everything was full steam ahead. The house was a flurry of florists and caterers, the grounds were picked and preened and polished by gardeners that had sailed over from Italy and the south of France. It was wonderful, if not a little overwhelming, but it was worth everything to see your future Aunt beaming as she supervised everything.

Tommy had pulled you aside a few times, determined to make sure that this was what you wanted, ready to pull the plug if he even caught a whiff that all of the glitz and glamour were out of your comfort zone. But Polly knew you well - not that you ever doubted her - and everything was beautiful and muted, classic and beguiling, just like something out of a fairytale.

You tried to be as involved as you could, picking out flowers for the bouquets, letting Esme try out a million different hairstyles on you as you sat barefoot and cross legged on the floor like a child, running around the kitchen with Katie, taste testing all of the frosting you could find. More than anything though, you were excited, elated for the day and it had nothing to do with all of the smoke and mirrors, instead it was the man you would meet at the end of the aisle.

You could tell that Tommy was getting antsy for the day as well. He was softer, calmer, his touch on your skin gentle but possessive, calling you “Mrs Shelby” as you came apart under him. He found himself falling asleep a little easier, his breath not getting caught in his lungs, his mind wandering and imagining his favourite girl in a pretty white dress, waiting for him under an arch of blush coloured tulips.

The real surprise though, came the morning before your wedding. You were curled up on the sofa drinking strong coffee and eating honey toast as Tommy finished some paperwork. He was trying to get everything done before the end of the day, wanting tomorrow and the weeks that came after to be nothing but the two of you.

You told him you never felt neglected. You had been by his side through it all, you knew just how demanding his job was, but that still didn’t ease the niggle of pressure at the back of his neck when he had his nose in his books for too long. He truly couldn’t wait until he could shove everything and everyone else aside. All he wanted was his girl in his arms with his ring on her finger, and a bottle of sweet gin.

Everything seemed so within reach, until the front door banged open like a whirlwind, and you heard the sounds of Polly’s stilettos against the hardwood floor.

“Alright you two, no time to lose!”

You and Tommy lifted your heads quickly, your eyes meeting across the room. “Polly?”

“- and Arthur!” An voice added, accompanied by the familiar face of the eldest Shelby.

You smiled, shutting the cover of your book. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

Tommy shot you a sharp look that said, don’t encourage them, but you ignored him, getting to your feet to greet them both.

Polly kissed you quickly on both cheeks, leaving you covered in a light layer of sticky red lipstick as she surveyed you both.

The study was the only place the two of you could find solace amongst the craziness of the wedding planning, every other room in the house filled with servants and buckets of flowers, the floors freshly waxed and polished. You could practically feel Tommy rolling his eyes behind you as Mary pushed open the double doors, holding your pastel pink overnight bag.

“Mrs Grey, I’ve packed all of Mrs Shelby’s things like you asked.”

“You did what?” Tommy said, rising to his feet.

Polly brushed him aside, reaching for the bag in the maid’s hand.“Ah. Thank you Mary, but it’s not Mrs Shelby yet, not till tomorrow. Let her be Miss (Y/L/N) for one last night.”

“Polly?” You asked, “What are you up to?”

She winked at you, her eyes catlike and beautiful, filled with the mischief that always hung around her. “You’re coming with me, love.”

“And you Tom, are coming with me.” Arthur said, pointing a finger at his brother.

“No. Fuck off, both of you.”

Polly put her hands in the air, but you could tell she had been expecting his resistance. “No Thomas. She needs a night as a free woman! Lord knows after tomorrow you’ll be keeping her all to yourself.”

Tommy straightened his back and crossed his arms, never one to back down from a fight, especially with his Aunt. “She’s staying here.”

“It’s tradition!” Arthur interjected, his voice already slurred despite it not even being noon yet.

“Fuck tradition.”

You moved forward, blinking up at your future husband. You knew why he was being so stubborn, the day before your wedding would be the prime time for something to go wrong, or something to happen with you, and keeping you within reach was what he wanted. As much as you loved spending every second with him, you also loved his family, and knew that perhaps a night of drinking and laughing and exhaling, was what you both needed.

He looked at you, his eyes unmoving and stern. You didn’t falter though, mimicking his frown and knitting your eyebrows together, trying to knock down the walls he was so insistent on putting up.

“It might be nice, Tom.” You said. “You deserve to have some fun, and it’ll make seeing each other tomorrow all the more special.”

A moment passed and you felt him falter, the corner of his lips moving ever so slightly.

“Alright. Bloody hell, fine.”

“Good decision brother.” Arthur said,

“We’re not leaving town.” Tommy stated simply, laying down the law.

“We wouldn’t dream of it! Johnny brought his caravan down, all of you men are camping in the woods. Us girls are staying here.”

“Aberama Gold doesn’t happen to be one of these men does he?” You said playfully, nudging Polly with your arm. She rolled her eyes but pulled you closer, her fingers toying with the satin ribbons on your blouse.

“Cmon, love, lets go.”

“Wait.”

You felt Tommy approaching you both, his large hands cupping around your face. You melted into him, his touch so soft and so warm. His eyes were so very blue, cobalt and icy, but they made your stomach infinite. He pulled you into him, smashing his lips against yours, not caring who was watching as he dug his fingers into the roots of your hair, dragging you against his body. Breathless, he pulled away, smiling at the frown on your face from the lack of contact.

“Be safe. Alright? I love you.”

“I love you.”

“Alright you two.” Polly said exasperatedly, but you could hear the happiness in her tone. “Let’s go.”

You let her lead you away, smiling at Arthur as he bounded towards his brother, filling him in on the multitude of activities he had planned for the night.

Every single one of them involved drinking.

As you left, Tommy shot Polly a look, one that told her to keep you near and to keep you safe, and she nodded in response. As soon as you made it into the hall she laughed genuinely, squeezing your shoulder.

“You will definitely fit in with this family, (Y/N).”

“Hm?”

“Yes. You have the Shelby woman’s gift.” She leant down, her lips to your ear. “The power to control a strong man like a puppet.”

———————————————————————

So there you were. Wrapped up in satin and lace, a glass filled with blood red wine, your friends happy and tipsy, swapping stories under the moonlight.

Bea and Violet, two of your closest friends from back in the little village had arrived to be your bridesmaids, their eyes wide and glimmering when they had seen the life you now lived. You watched as they sat with Polly, telling her tales of when you and Michael had been young and stupid - not that much had changed.

Polly had invited all of the girls from work and your friends from in the city, and the laughter bounced off the walls and engulfed you. Ada was enchanting, completely beaming as she sat next to you, telling you every embarrassing thing about her brother she could remember as she downed shots of vodka and cinnamon whisky.

Michael was lounging on the floor with one of Polly’s fine fox scarves draped around his neck. Charlotte was curled up in his side with a cigarette, her hand intertwined with his as she watched him with dopey, loved up eyes. You caught his eye and smiled at him, and he winked in response, joining in with the girls’ as though he was one himself.

You had told him to enjoy the night with the boys, but he refused. You partly suspected that it had something to do with Tommy, and that your fiancé had wanted you to have more protection, but you also knew that Michael wanted to spend tonight with you. Things hadn’t changed per say, but there was no denying that the both of you were getting older, and soon you would be a member of his bloodline rather than just his best friend.

You still had all of your wonderful memories, like running through sunflower fields and swimming in the river until the sun set, but they seemed further away now, almost out of reach. Part of you still clung to the past, the innocence of your youth, all peach skies and daisy chains, but there was no denying that your vision was cloudy, blurry, only focused on the future, and the only man that you wanted to be in it.

Somebody flipped the record over. You listened to the thump and rhythm of the music, smiling at those you loved as they danced around you. You adored everyone in the room, even Lizzie who had arrived already drunk and had glared daggers at you every time you turned around. These were your new family, your new life, and whilst you were elated and excited for it all, you also really needed some fucking air.

Almost on cue, Violet toppled over a champagne flute as she kicked her legs like a cabaret dancer, and you sighed playfully as she covered her mouth with her hands like a small child, her eyes as wide as the moon.

“Oh! Oh! I’m so sorry!”

“Violet, it’s alright! I’ll go and get some cloth, you ladies stay here, try not to break anything else, eh?” You said rising to your feet and darting out of the door, the sound of laughter following you like twinkling diamonds. As soon as you could you ran down the stairs, your feet pattering against the carpet, sneaking out of the back door and into the jet black night.

————————————————————-

The moon was round and full, and you sat cross legged on the grass, your bare feet dipped into the lake that wrapped around the property. It was your favourite place to clear your head, under the weeping willow, listening to the sound of the animals around you, the night air brisk yet comfortable. It was hard to believe that in a few hours you would be married, bound to this brilliant man that had swept you up like a rough wave, capturing you completely.

“Not having second thoughts are we?”

You smiled in the dark. His voice cutting through the night like a knife through butter.

“Tommy.” You breathed, turning around and facing him, the spark of his cigarette as bright as the stars above you both. He grinned at the sight of you, his shirt unbuttoned at the top and his sleeves rolled up, looking like a vision under the moonlight. “What are you doing here?

“I should be asking you the same question.”

“I just needed some air.” You said, curling your toes and inhaling the cool air, you felt his eyes all over you, and you wanted to get as close to him as possible, replace his gaze with his fingertips. You were inches apart and yet you still missed him, and you knew that you would feel this way forever.

“Ah. I take it the ladies are just as boisterous as the men. I only managed to get away after Arthur fell into the bonfire.”

“Bloody hell! Is he alright?”

“Burnt moustache and bruised ego. Nothing he can’t handle.”

You were about to laugh but you stopped suddenly, remembering something important.

“Wait! It’s after midnight!”

“Are you about to turn into a pumpkin?” Tommy asked, amused by your change in tone.

“No! We’re getting married today! You can’t see me!”

“(Y/N).”

“Turn around!” You squealed, pushing him away from you and spinning on your heel.

You heard an exasperated laugh.

“I think we’ve had our fill of bad luck, little one. Turn around, I want to see your face.”

He took you in. No makeup and loose hair and still squeezing all of the air from his lungs.

“We don’t have to do it like this, you know.”

“If this isn’t what you want - all the fucking champagne and caviar. We could leave tonight, get married in a fucking courthouse - just us. Or we could do it in Johnny’s field, get him to marry us right next to his caravan. I don’t care where it is or what we do, I just want - I just need to be with you.”

His words made your gut twist, the sincerity in his voice meaning everything to you, knowing that he would move mountains if it would make you happy, and that you would do the same for him. “I think Polly would murder us.”

“She doesn’t scare me.”

“She should.”

“No. I want this. Yes it’s all a bit... much.” you struggled to find the right word, feeling overwhelmed but ultimately completely spoiled by all of the fuss. “But I think it will be lovely. Your family deserve this. You deserve this.”

Looking at you all sleepy eyed, dressed in silk and satin and lace, your necklace hanging in the sweet dip of your throat, the ring on your finger glinting under the summer twilight, he really wasn’t sure he did.

He pulled you into him, not wanting to be apart from you for any longer. You smelt of home, like violets and green apples and vanilla cupcakes, and he felt like heaven, with his strong body and warm hands and comforting arms. Safe in his presence, you mumbled the words that had been the reason for many of your sleepless nights.

“Do you think she’ll come?”

She being your mother. The woman who had nursed you and bathed you and kissed the scrapes and bruises on your knees when you were a child had all but refused to attend your wedding. You understood why. Your trip to visit Michael in Birmingham was only supposed to be a few days, a week at most, and here you were two years later engaged to a man on the other side of England. You had tried to come home a few times, but the visits were cold and severed, Michaels foster parents filling your mother with poison about the family you had entered.

The phone calls stopped. No more weekly letters from your mother or care packages wrapped in string. You still wrote, but you never got a reply, only a small impersonal card at Christmas and your birthday. Michael understood, and always knew how to comfort you. He had also left the only family he had known and entered the strange underground where you both now lived. He was a boy from the sleepy village who had grown into a man.

It was harder for you, being a woman meant that you were held with certain standards and expectations. But, luckily you had Polly and Ada who taught you that you could be more than just a housewife.

It affected Tommy the most though. If anything was bothering you he knew how to deal without immediately, crushing whatever had made you sad with the heel of his boot, using his power to make everything alright again. He couldn’t do anything about your mother though, couldn’t twist her view of him, not when it was so accurate.

He was bad for you and you were too good for him.

It hurt him though, when late at night you would get that sad, wistful look in your eyes. Or when you would wait for the postman every Monday, the disappointment bleeding from you every time nothing came. He wanted to fix everything, but he didn’t know how. He left the bulk of the comforting words to Ada and Michael, and did his best to show you how much he cared in his own way, with gentle touches and shared looks and those three words that always made him feel better.

Your wedding though, was a different matter. There was no way in hell that you would be anything less than happy if he had something to do with it. His heart broke a little the day that the RSVP came back in the post, a simple “unable to attend.” scrawled at the bottom, as though it was a routine doctors appointment and not her daughters wedding day. Tommy knee he had to fix it when he heard the muffled sound of sobs coming from your bathroom, his heart ripping in two just thinking about the tears staining your beautiful face.

He had a meeting in London but he pushed it back, determined to right the wrongs that lingered around you both. His black matte Bugatti looked incredibly out of place as it trailed down the quiet village lanes, the purr of the engine much louder than the bird songs and running water in the background. It wasn’t hard to picture you in the chocolate box cottage that he parked in front of, smiling ever so faintly at the thought of you running through the grass when you were a child, hanging up laundry in the summer, drinking hot chocolate in the winter.

She opened the door after the first knock, her eyes the size of dinner plates and her mouth agape. Usually, Tommy would be firm and curt and rude, demanding exactly what he wanted and when he expected it to be done, but he knew that he had to be somewhat kind to your mother, even if he currently resented her because of the state you were in.

“I won’t stay long, Mrs (Y/L/N.)” He said, not bothering to step over the threshold, knowing that she’d probably scream if he did. “You might not like it but I’m in love with your daughter. I intend to marry her, and as my wife, I want to make her happy.”

Your mother didn’t interject, merely nodded, and Tommy took that as a sign to continue.

“I know what you think of me and you’re not wrong, but don’t punish your daughter over it. (Y/N) is safe and she is happy, and as her mother that should make you pleased shouldn’t it? Not behaving like a child and treating as if she is a stranger. I want my wife to be happy, so put aside your fucking prejudices and buy a nice hat, alright? For her sake.”

The tension was thick and hot and practically dripping over them, but their eyes met briefly, and something flickered between them.

“I hope to see you at the wedding.” He bit, his tone as sharp as his canines, turning on his heel and heading for the car.

He hummed quietly, listening the sounds of the night. The flicker of the bonfire in the fields behind, the sound of drunken singing and chanting that was louder than a siren.

“I think she will.”

You thought about saying something but held it in, not wanting to ruin the tender moment of him holding you against his chest, the heat of summer nothing compared to the two of you.

He moved you slowly, placing his hands either side of your face, his eyes veiled and moonless.“Go and get some sleep.” He said. “Because you won’t be getting any tonight.”

His voice was low and wolffish, and you felt your entire body setting alight at his words and the darkness in his eyes. His hold on you was so tight it was almost painful, but there was nowhere else that you would rather be. You smiled prettily, already feeling the butterflies coiling in your stomach, leaning up on your tiptoes to kiss him, sweet as strawberry ice cream and fresh honey, the taste lingering on his tongue. You left silently, leaving him grinning dopily, drunk on you and the heat of the evening.

He watched you as you walked away. His eyes never leaving as you stalked back to the house, his gaze lingering long after your shadow grew small, and the front door opened and closed behind you.

————————————————————————

Polly let you sleep in until 8.

You had crashed out after seeing Tommy, Polly had scolded you for leaving and then insisted that you got some beauty sleep, and you practically collapsed into the powder pink pillows on the guest bed.Sleep had come easily, and you grumbled a little when your new in laws had barged in the next morning, pulling back the curtains and letting in the heavy sunlight.

You were ushered into the master bathroom. The claw foot tub had already filled to the brim, rose petals shimmering on the surface, epsom salts dissolving around you. It was warm and inviting, steam billowing around your face as you undressed, and a cup of cinnamon coffee waiting for you on the cabinet by the side, next to an almond croissant from your favourite bakery in London.

You were slightly confused as to how she acquired it, but you knew by now to never question Polly and her methods.

Mary came in not long after, the maid you now thought of as a close friend unable to keep the smile off her face as she helped wash your hair, dragging a soft toothed golden comb over your locks and massaging lavender oil into your scalp. You scrubbed your skin until it shone, washed your body and dragged a razor across any unwanted hair, soothing your skin with thick coconut cream and honey salve.

You could hear everyone on the floors below, the sound of clattering china and rivalling voices coming up through the floorboards. You thought it might make you nervous, but it didn’t, if anything it made you feel more certain. The butterflies in your stomach were a swarm now, and all you could think of was him.

The girls were spread out in the largest guest room. The big windows had been opened, the lace curtains billowing in the warm breeze, and you could see start of the canopy being set up along the great expansive garden, one of yours and Tommy’s favourite places.

Ada squealed when she saw you, even with just a towel around your body and hair, she showered you in compliments.

“You’re glowing!”

“That’s because I’ve scrubbed off ten layers of skin.” You teased, letting her hug you tightly.

The rest of the girls clambered towards you, cigarettes in their fingers and champagne on their tongues. They were a blur of sweet lilac and warm honeysuckle, the colours of their soft chiffon dresses sparkling under the low lights, and you could feel your heart burst at the sight.

“Oh, Pol.” You said quietly, “Everyone looks so beautiful.”

She came towards you, a vision in her golden draped dress. It was covered in glimmering beads and diamonds, and she looked like a starlet on the big screen. She took you in her arms and laughed, “All you need is Auntie Polly to wave her magic wand.” She shook you slightly, running her fingers along the damp skin of your arm. “Come on, you. I think there’s a very impatient man waiting for you.”

Your nails were filed and painted pink, your hair mused and styled by Mary, leaving it long and wavy down your back, the way that both you and Tommy liked it best. You laughed out loud when Bea and Violet showed you their wedding present, a beautiful swan white lingerie set from the dressmakers in the village, complete with high stockings and a frilly lace garter.

“Maybe keep a doctor nearby when he sees you in that tonight.” Bea giggled as you fingered the delicate stitching and fabric.

Not everything was perfect though. One of the caterers dropped a plate of crab cakes and goats cheese bruschetta onto the floor, and one of the mares that was going to lead the carriage to the church had bolted at the unfamiliar hands and raced around the paddock away from the grooms that tried to catch her. Polly had huffed loudly and left with the girls and promises that she would be back with someone’s head, you had nodded, oblivious to everyones anxiety, too dazed at the thought of the day ahead to worry about the little things.

So they left you alone in the big bedroom, staring at your reflection in the golden mirror. It had been a four woman job to get you into the dress. Ada holding you steady by the armpits as Mary and Polly and a unsuspecting servant from downstairs was roped into helping you slide under the fabric, the tulle and lace as heavy as an anvil on you all. Polly had the dress shipped over from Paris after months of searching for the perfect dress, finally ordering one completely hand made and one of a kind, just like you, she had said.

You had never seen Polly cry.

Once, almost, when she had too much brandy at Christmas and she spoke of how much she wished Anna could have been there, the lump in her throat unmistakable as she told you how much she missed her daughter. And now in her nephews bedroom, her smile so wide and her eyes glistening, as she took your face in her hands.

“Thank you for making my boys so happy.”

You could hear her downstairs. The click of her stilettos and the sound of her voice, and once again you were infinitely grateful for whatever cosmic force had brought this wild, brilliant and chaotic family into your life. You turned back to the mirror, running your fingers over the delicate beading on the corset of your dress.

It was without a doubt the most beautiful thing you had ever seen. It was the colour of a fresh blanket of snow, so angelic and pure. There were thin straps at the shoulders, decorated with tiny crystals and jewels. The bodice was cinched and slightly scooped at the neckline, the puckering of your scar showing just above the pristine chiffon.

It had never been something you wanted to hide. It showed that you were alive.

The skirt was wide and full. Layers of expertly fitted tulle and crinoline holding it together, gilding and cascading like a waterfall down your legs and to the floor. There were pearls and thread and diamonds in the shape of flowers stitched right into the fabric, glimmering and twinkling like the stars in the sky when you shifted in the light.

“I’ve left the car running.”

You turned at the noise, smiling when you spotted Michael in the doorway, looking like a million dollars in his rich navy suit and tie.

“Just in case.” He continued.

You rolled your eyes, laughing sarcastically. “Ha. Ha.”

He stepped further into the room, his eyes soft and kind and as wide as dinner plates. The emotion on his face making your heart constrict, his face suddenly so much younger. “Wow.” He breathed. “You look beautiful.”

You blushed, your eyes darting to the floor as he approached you.

“Really, (Y/N). You look... wow.”

“Thanks Mikey.” You said softly, the two of you comfortable in the silence. In that moment nothing else really mattered, you were two kids again, running through waist high grass, sledding down the hills in the winter, splashing each other in the river. So much had changed and yet it would always be the two of you.

He broke the silence first, not one to linger in the past for too long. “This is for you.”

“Oh. Michael. You shouldn’t have! You’ve already done so much.”

“I wanted to.”

He rummaged around in his pockets, finally pulling out a large scarlet velvet box, slowly lifting off the lid. Inside was an exquisite sparkling marquise diamond necklace, intertwined with yellow and rose gold, oval shaped crystals draping and falling from the band like raindrops. Beside it, were two matching earrings, brilliantly cut, so clear that you could see your reflection, the gems woven together like ivy on a cottage. So stunning that you started to tear up.

You gasped, unable to swallow your shock. “Michael! This must have cost a fortune.”

“Nah. I stole it.” He teased, his voice a little shy.

You pulled him in to your arms. He kissed your head, pulling you tightly against him.

“I love you.” He said, his words muffled by your hair. “You deserve this. God, you deserve the world. I am so happy for you.”

You smiled into the fabric of his suit, muffling an “I love you” into the stitched seams. He squeezed you playfully, making you squeal as he hoisted you into the air.

“Careful. If you smudge my makeup there’s a good chance that Polly will shoot you.” You giggled.

“I can handle her.”

“Can you?”

His gaze faltered and you laughed, hitting his shoulder. He spun you around, lifting the necklace from its box and settling it onto your throat, his skilled hands fastening the clasp. You gasped at your reflection, your eyes meeting his in the mirror.

“It looks perfect.”

“I love it Michael.”

He pressed a kiss to your crown, watching as you delicately picked up the earrings and put them on.

“And tell Tommy that if he ever hurts you that I’ll kill him.”

A moment of silence, and then:

“- you’re not going to really tell him that are you?”

You both laughed as he outstretched an arm, looking you up and down proudly, his eyes already a little glossy and big. You thought of how much younger he looked.

“Cmon.” He said, “ I think they’re waiting for you.”

————————————————————

Thomas Shelby never felt apprehensive. He wasn’t familiar with the prickling anxiety that lingered at the bottom of his spine, or the dread that that had settled itself low in his gut, or the way that his palms were growing hotter by the second. He never got nervous. Until now.

Perhaps nervous wasn’t the right word. He had no doubt that you would be walking down the aisle in a few minutes, he knew that you would say “I do.” with as much certainty as him, and he knew that the golden band in Arthur’s jacket pocket would soon be on your finger. But still, the foreboding remained, hanging around his head like a dark cloud.

He didn’t deserve you. He knew that much for sure. He was the devil, his hands stained with blood, his lungs filled with ash, his insides dark and mean. You were an angel, soft and sweet and gentle and warm, the girl that could bring him to his knees.

The church abbey felt big, the summer sun filtering through the stained glass windows, the high ceilings making the room feel vast and empty, despite the crowded benches. He needed you to arrive, to settle the unease inside of him, to light up the room in the way that only you could, feeling every single empty space with your light.

He glanced around the room. Arthur was next to him, nursing a pretty tragic hangover and still a little ashy from his burn, but his smile was bright and he winked at his younger brother. There were plenty of blinders here, working rather than as guests, Tommy was insistent that he wanted as much protection over the day as possible, and even though it was your wedding day, he never would stop protecting you. He wouldn’t put it past his enemies to try something on what should be the happiest day of your lives.

He saw your friends from work. John and Esme and their litter of children. Lizzie and her new boyfriend, hanging off his arm and looking at Tommy with already drunk, hazy eyes. He even smiled as he saw Alfie perched in a middle row, his hat bigger than his head, his beard neatly combed and an array of golden rings on his fingers. Ollie was next to him, watching the room warily, always on guard.

Once Alfie had heard about the engagement he sent over fresh loaves and flowers and then invited himself to the wedding. But he needn’t have, as he had always been on the guest list.

Tommy’s eyes grazed over the person he had been looking for though. Your mother. Sitting in a pew near the front, draped in fine silk and a matching hat, looking entirely out of place but smiling tightly nonetheless. Their eyes met, a single flame of acknowledgement flickering between them. Unspoken but still lingering in the air, that they would both always put you first and that was all that mattered.

“You nervous, Tommy boy?” He heard Arthur say from behind him. He opened his mouth to answer but stopped as he heard noises from outside, the clunk of horse hooves and the rattle of the carriage. He felt his palms sweat and his heart race like he was back in battle, but this time the feeling was so sickly sweet and warm, he felt so fucking happy.

There was so much light when the doors opened. Polly was traditional, and even with all of the immorality in her life, she was adamant that you would both be married in a church. Neither of you protested, Tommy would have said “I do” in front of God himself if it meant you would be his wife. None of it mattered to him.

He remembered the day you came back from seeing the cathedral for the first time. How wide your smile was as you laid curled up in his chest, his lips leaving open mouthed kisses on your neck as you told him all about the ivy covered steeples and wildflowers and beautiful black jackdaws.

You were smitten, and so was he.

There wasn’t much they could do to decorate the church. Back at the house was where the main party was going to be held, but Polly was a genius, and every empty space was filled with tall flickering candles and bouquets of flowers. Everything felt clean and soft and pure, a mixture of old and rustic and fresh and new.

Light. So much light coming in from outside. The day already so sticky warm and wonderful, much like the summer the two of you met and fell in love. Katie came in first, giggling at the eruption of “aww’s” from the pews, everybody watching as she threw small white daisies and coral amber rose petals down the aisle.

Finn followed, looking like an adult in his suit and tie and freshly polished brogues. Then the bridesmaids, coy smiles on their faces, hair curled and polished and smiles that seemed to stretch all the way to the moon. Tommy could feel Arthur’s sly grin from behind him, and knew that he would have a job of distracting his older brother from the beautiful young ladies later on.

The fabric of their dresses swished and swayed under the light, the softness of the skirts and the sharp heel of their stilettos such a wonderful contrast. The ladies whose faces he vaguely recognised moved to your side of the alter, young and impressionable eyes looking around the grand room, obviously astonished and surprised that one of their own was going to be married in such a remarkable chapel.

Ada was next. Polly at her side. His sister and his Aunt commanding the entire room with just the sound of their shoes and the sway of their hips. They looked incredible, such a mixture of power and beauty. Polly’s smile was smug and self assured, but also filled with a certain kindness that was meant just for Tommy. Ada’s eyes were glistening, looking at her brother with adoration and pride, and that playful tease that he knew and loved.

The room was quiet for a moment. The anticipation roaring around like a wasp trapped under a glass, and Tommy could see Curly smiling happily, peering down the aisle as they waited for you to arrive.

For Tommy, his whole life had once been so loud, and then, as if by magic, everything stopped. All of the noise, the blur, the people. They all faded and disappeared. It was like having his head held underwater, the rush of the ocean and the pounding of his blood in his ears deafening him. He felt movement around him, everybody in the pews rising to their feet, the orchestra starting the bridal chorus. His friends and family were smiling so widely, enjoying the ambience and the atmosphere, holding their hands to their chest and wiping their eyes and muttering how beautiful everything was.

He didn’t see any of it. He only saw you.

You had always been the most beautiful woman to him, the kind of woman that made the air leave his lungs and his heart beat a little faster, but oh god, did you look magnificent. In your dress that wrapped and dipped and swayed around your legs like running water, the bodice that cinched you in tightly, exposing the dip of your throat and the curve of your collarbone, just begging him to leave a necklace of bruises next to the diamonds. Your eyes were wide, lined with kohl and blush on your cheeks that reminded him of sun soaked days and strawberry jam and wax stamped envelopes. The curve of your lips, raspberry red gloss that made him think of kissing you until neither of you knew where one of you began and the other ended, his hands in your hair, your legs around his waist.

He felt tears prick behind his eyes. Such a foreign feeling that he almost recoiled. He was so used to being strong and in charge, never letting his emotions bubble up on the surface where somebody might see. But seeing you walk down the aisle, filling the room with love and youth and kindness - knowing that you were going to be his wife, that your days would begin and end with each other, that you would fight and fuck and laugh and cry, tell each other everything, hold him when the shovels got too loud, clean him when he was dripping with another mans blood, be the one you called because no one else would ever compare.

He let his eyes grow glossy as you stepped forward, taking his hand in yours. You were so smooth and soft and small and he was so large and rough and hard, but you fit together like you had been moulded that way, as though there was no where else you two could ever be. So in a room filled with people who respected him and trusted him as a cruel, calculated leader, he let himself be washed away with you,

Because he was in love. And nothing else fucking mattered.

———————————————————————-

Champagne and crystal chandeliers. Cotton candy coloured roses across all of the banister, wide full petals looking like silk under the lights. Pearl necklaces snapped in half and black satin gloves ripped up the seams, pretty fine china filled with bourbon, and laughter that never seemed to cease.

Tommy had tried to keep the party civilised for as long as he could, but the Shelby clan were persistent, and with the amount of booze in the house, they saw it as a challenge to drink it all.

The wedding dinner had gone well. Only the nearest and dearest invited to a seat at the grand table, you and Tommy at the head, his hand possessively on your thigh, your shoulder pressed against his chest. There were more courses than you could count, great big plates and bowls of honey roast ham and glazed partridges and peach trifle and jam soufflé. Your glasses were never empty and yet everyone was well mannered and kind, their voices a little softer than usual, their jokes a little bit cleaner.

You suspected it had something to do with the woman sat next to you, safely nestled in between yourself and Michael, the two people she knew. Your mother had been quiet but mellow at the ceremony, even going as far as hugging you with tears in her eyes as you gathered outside for the photos. There had been tension of course, but it meant the world to you that she was willing to put on a smile for the day.

You had no doubt that Tommy had ordered everyone to be on their best behaviour around her and you could feel yourself chuckle lightly as Arthur gave a very uncharacteristically charming toast to the two of you. The rest of the dinner passed pleasantly, and you could even see your mother start to loosen up as Ada spoke to her about her favourite novels and the current political climate.

After the plates had been cleared away and the guests started arriving for the party, your mother pulled you aside before you got to the living room.

“This might not have been what I wanted for you, (Y/N). You’re my daughter. I only want the best for you.” She murmured, wringing her hands as though she was willing herself to continue. “And it pains me to say it but... Thomas clearly loves you, and I truly feel safe leaving you in his hands. He might not be a good man, but he is good for you.”

Those words were more precious than all of the diamonds and jewels you had stuffed in your dresser upstairs, that your mother accepted the man you loved.

“Oh, Mum.” You sighed, pulling her into you. She was so familiar and warm and you could feel tears prickling behind your eyes. She held onto you tightly, kissing the top of your head and wrapping her arms around you as though you were a baby again.

“I must go and catch my train. But - I’ll call you (Y/N).” She said, and you nodded wildly, your smile so big you thought your cheeks might split.

You walked her to one of the cars, instructing the driver to take her to the station, waving at her as the car got smaller and smaller in your eyes. You felt Tommy approach you, his hand snaking across your waist, and you let him pull you close. He opened his mouth to speak but you cut him off, kissing him ferociously, letting your gratitude show in your touch. He accepted greedily, devouring you on the front steps of your home, his hands in your hair and your lips between his teeth, the sound of the party and music suddenly sounding so far away.

——————————————————-

With your mother gone, the party was in full swing. People were dancing barefoot because their shoes were stained with blood, sharing wide smiles between friends, the rooms smelling of skin and sweat and expensive perfume. You saw pupils blown up to the size of the moon, horse racing and gambling in the paddocks at the back, whoops and laughter vibrating around the house and shaking the paintings.

Tommy had kept you close, not that you ever wanted to stray. It was obvious that despite the genuine fun and admiration for him and all he had accomplished from those walking through his house with slack jaws, he only really wanted to be with you. It worked for the majority of the time, the two of you nestled on one of the ruby velvet chairs in the lounge, letting the crowds of people come and find you and offer their sincere congratulations.

But as always, being Thomas Shelby came with a price, and he often had to leave begrudgingly, with a tense jaw and closed fist, every time someone (Arthur) tore a painting or someone else, (Finn) crashed a car into the allotment and ripped up all of the courgettes.

He always left with a grumble and obvious annoyance swimming in his ocean eyes, planting a firm kiss to your lips and a promise to be back soon every time somebody called for him. He was never one for public displays of affection, he liked to make everyone know you were his but he preferred to keep his tenderness private. Maybe it was how drop dead gorgeous you looked in your gown, a looser, more intricate number you had donned for the evening party. Or maybe it was the rings you shared, the two solid gold circles looking like a sky full of stars under the lights, or maybe it was a mixture of the champagne soaked kisses and pure, uninhibited bliss he felt when he touched you - but whatever it was, you loved it, relishing the attention wholeheartedly.

You weren’t sure where he had got too this time, and somehow you had been wrangled into a conversation with a very tipsy Lord and Lady something or other, both of them fawning over you, their voices high like children. Your saving grace came in the form of a very tall, very stocky baker, his rings cool and comforting on your shoulder as he pulled you away.

“Yes. Yes. That’s very nice right, I’m just going to take (Y/N) away now, yes. Yes. Finish your drinks.” He waved them off as you laughed, “God, these rich fucks can talk for England. Fucking Liberty. Plus, I’ve seen them finish off all of the crab cakes. It’s not on.”

“No. Alfie, it’s not.” You said with a smile, letting him lead you into the parlour, the room almost empty and the faces that you recognised were pleasantly familiar. You grinned as you thought of how well Alfie knew the inside of the manor, something that you were sure to use as ammunition against Tommy any time he tried to tell you that “they weren’t friends.”

That was how he found you almost an hour later. Somehow the rest of the family had migrated into the room, bar Arthur who said he wasn’t drunk enough yet to be in the same room as Alfie. Tommy had been pulled and tugged in every direction, speaking to people he really didn’t give a shit about just to keep the party running smoothly, for your sake. He was on high alert, Johnny had said his boys had seen a figure running through the back paddocks, and just that alone was enough to send him spiralling. It was probably just a stray, strung out guest trying to get home, but it made his blood feel like it was electric.

He made all his men stay on guard, shut down the gambling and horse racing in the garden and made every single person who worked for him stay on red alert. Perhaps he was over reacting but he would never admit that, better to be overly cautious than have something happen to you. After doing laps of the house, checking on the cooks and gritting his teeth through drunken chats with whoever managed to grab him, he finally made his way back to you.

There you were. Face lit up under the candlelight, eyes tired but still sparkling, obviously exhausted but still enjoying the conversation, wanting to keep everyone happy. You looked ethereal. And for a moment he just watched you from the doorway, captivated by the movement of your hands, the bow of your lips, the way that you formed your words, so careful and light.

Alfie noticed him straight away, smiling cheekily as he pulled you into him. “Mrs Shelby.” He said, putting emphasis on both of the words and wrapping an arm around your shoulders. It was crazy how he could rile Tommy up more than anyone without being tipsy or high, somehow knowing how to push all of his buttons. “If you’re ever in London right, come to the bakery. I’ll show you a good time.”

You rolled your eyes at him, instantly knowing his game. You followed his gaze and saw the man you loved, your husband, watching you from the doorway.

“Tommy.”

“Excuse me, gentlemen.” He said firmly, brushing Alfie’s hand off you a little harder than he needed to. “I need to borrow my wife.”

God. Were you ever going to get used to him calling you that?

His hand slipped into yours and you melted, his lips grazing your ear lobe, deep accent rumbling like waves. “Cmon, lets go outside.”

You would have followed him anywhere, to the edge of the world if he had looked at you the way he was now, with those goddamn sky blue eyes and that smug, boyish grin.

Instead he led you through the party, playfully tugging on your hand as you both ran, desperate for nobody to see either of you and try to trap you in another mind numbing discussion. He took you through the servants entrance in the kitchen and into the courtyard, one of your favourite areas of the gardens. It was beautiful sculpted, with its high, emerald green bushes and intricately crafted pots and flower beds. You moved towards the fountain in the middle, surrounded by the rows of lilac and salmon tulips that swayed like ballet dancers in the wind.

He cleared his throat as you watched the water drip and fall and ripple down the stem of the fountain, the night sky reflected across it like a painting. It wasn’t chilly out but still he wrapped his blazer across your shoulders, filling your senses with cinnamon and nicotine and whisky sours.

“I want to read you my vows.” He said.

You turned to face him, confused.

“I know we both said we weren’t writing them, and I haven’t, not really, but there are some things I need to say to you.”

You opened your mouth to speak but closed it, watching him under the moonlight, how beautiful and how strong and how vulnerable he seemed all at once. You could feel your heart beating rapidly, your belly coiling and twisting, somehow he always managed to knock you off balance. He came towards you, close enough you could see the faint scars on his face from fights he had both won and lost, see the brilliance in his eyes and the sadness that always seemed to linger deep down in them, the curve of his lips and the sharpness of his teeth, the way that they had clenched around your heart and never let go.

“I deserve a lot of bad things. I do bad things, and I always thought that everything good would be taken away from me. I wasn’t born into a life like this, I’ve worked hard and given my blood sweat and tears to live like this, to get the things I have now. I’ve spent a lot of nights alone. Fuck, I’ve... felt alone since the moment I got on that train to France, and ever since I’ve been trying to find... something.”

“I thought it was all of this, but maybe it isn’t. I was always searching for the next big thing, the next move on the chessboard, the next city to take over. I didn’t realise how none of it made me happy until I walked into the Garrison the day you came here.”

A pause. A beat of silence.

“Look, I’m not the most articulate man, but God, I’m in love with you. I’ve loved you since the very first moment that I saw you. And - and - ” His voice crackles, fizzles out like a firework. “That day that I almost lost you, that nearly fucking killed me. That was when I realised that you were the thing I was searching for. You’re it for me.”

His hands on yours, pulling you in.

“For the first time in my life I don’t have to pretend to be happy. Whenever I see you, I just am. I can’t promise that I’m not going to fuck it up, but I’m trying, you make me want to try. You want to make me be better. You make me better.”

“I love you, (Y/N).”

He said, pressing his palm to your jawline, looking in your eyes with such sincerity and love that you felt as though you were floating.

“Oh, Tommy.” You breathed into the night, swept up and drowning in him, lost in lust and love and devotion, pressing your lips to his. “I love you.”

#tommy shelby imagine #thomas shelby imagine #ts imagine #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders oneshot #thomas shelby oneshot #tommy shelby oneshot #tommy shelby x reader

[lovelazarus]

rating: Mature

archive warning: graphic depictions of violence

words: 2645

tags: Self-Harm, Suicide Attempt, Suicidal Thoughts, Self-Harm (fairly graphic), Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, graphic description of suicide attempt, Flashbacks, Trauma, Fluff, Fix-It of Sorts, Dean is alive, Castiel is alive, Hurt/Comfort, POV Dean Winchester, brief mention of John Winchester - Freeform, Canon-Typical Violence, Sad with a Happy Ending, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Past Abuse, Homophobic Language, 15x20 Fix-It

summary: (This fic starts out with a graphic dream/flashback of Dean's mid-20s.) Cas showed up to save Dean in 15x20 after he let himself get impaled on rebar, his attempt to stop living while thinking Cas was truly gone in the Empty. It's been a few months since that event in the Barn. Things have been calm since Chuck lost his power & Jack brought Castiel back to help rebuild heaven (although Jack isn't in this directly!). Even with things being okay, Dean's decades of trauma are still bubbling up and Dean has to face the reality of his actions (past & present).

PLEASE read all tags before reading!

The last thing Dean remembers is sitting down on the couch in the Deancave, waiting for Cas to come pick tonight's movie. He must’ve dozed off at some point because suddenly it's 2004 and he’s 25 years old again.

The two years Sammy was off at Stanford was one of Dean’s lowest points in life; including his trip to hell, being a demon & helping kick start the apocalypse. He was completely alone.

Sam was gone, John was irate and blamed Dean for Sam leaving, for not stopping him from leaving. Dean was hunting alone, without his family, for the first time in his life. His last hunt however was the first to deeply scar him irrevocably.

A father and 2 sons, roughly the same age apart as him and Sam. Both attacked by an extremely vengeful spirit, the father was gutted and the sons were supernaturally manipulated into hanging themselves. Dean walked into their house hoping to save the family after following trails of the case, but he walked into a gruesome scene that left him shaking and holding back from vomiting.

In Dean’s mind, it was a representation of his own torn apart family. He left the home, found the grave of the spirit, and put it to rest with unsteady hands and bleary eyes.

“I’m sorry I didn’t get to you in time… I could’ve saved you and I wasn’t there. I wasn’t good enough to help you. I’m so sorry.” Dean whispers, half to the victims and half to his younger brother, thousands of miles away and unable to hear his plea.

He gets to the motel room he rented with his duffle slung over his shoulder and stands outside the door with the key in his hand, almost afraid to enter, lest he finds another sick and twisted scene inside. He exhales roughly and shoves the key into the door and strides in.

All that's inside his cheap bottle of gas station whiskey and a pack of menthols.

He drops his duffle on the extra twin bed before scooping up his liquor and smokes. He wants to erase this entire hunt from his mind if he can.

Oh, how he wants to.

Three hours later his whole pack is gone, cigarette butts shoved into an old ashtray, and 3/4th the bottle of whiskey is sitting harshly in his stomach. Dean can’t stop picturing that family as his own. Thoughts of his father’s anger circle inside his mind like a tornado.

“I told you to watch out for Sammy, boy! Do you even use that brain other than to continuously disappoint me and fail your brother? To fail Mary?”

HIT

“I left you alone for two weeks! TWO WEEKS THAT'S ALL! Now Sam has run off and you’re going to pay for it.”

HIT

“So you blew through all the money I left you and now you’re turning tricks like some little faggot? You’re going to influence Sammy to that shit and I won’t allow my sons to be like that.”

HIT

With each memory of John rushing back into Dean’s mind, he can still feel the physical hits coming. His dad was right. This would never have happened if he hadn’t been more careful. If he had protected Sam like he was told to. If he had been a better son.

He finishes the last of the whiskey as the screams of his father’s voice start to fade back into the black void inside his mind. But the moment the last drop of liquor touches his tongue, he breaks. Every punch landed by his father that he took in order to protect Sam comes rushing back. Every harsh word and drunken fight he got into. Every argument with Sam over being too controlling, too much of a soldier.

Dean feels sick.

The toilet in that crappy motel room has certainly seen better days, but no matter how much Dean vomits, he stays just as drunk.

In a moment of blind anger, he destroys the kitchenette, the TV, and the nightstand. He chucks the empty whiskey bottle at the wall and watches the glass fly everywhere as it shatters.

He absent-mindedly picks up a large piece of glass.

This could kill me. One quick and easy slash to my neck or wrist and that’d be it. No more pain for Sam, and no more disappointment for dad.

He lets his hand drop to his side and allows the shard to fall to the floor. This isn’t the first time he’s had thoughts like this in moments of weakness, but it's certainly the first time there was a calm push behind it. He collapses to his knees with a broken sob. He doesn’t want to do this anymore. He's tired.

God, he is so tired.

Dean isn’t sure when he decided this was his only option to stop the deep visceral pain he’s feeling, but it's where he’s at now.

Swallow all the pills in the med bag? No, that's what bitches and girls do, plus… it's painful.

Slit his wrists in a nice warm bath? Even worse than pills! You really are some kind of faggot, aren’t you?

Shotgun to the face? Now that's the man’s way out.

He pauses, looking over to his favorite sawed-off. It’ll be an absolute mess if that’s the way he goes. He thinks again to the family he couldn’t save; how gory and horrific it was. He shudders and breathes in sharply. He can’t do that to someone else, especially not some innocent civilian.

“Of course,” he mutters under his breath “I have a rope in the trunk.” So that’s the plan.

He stuffs all his shit into his duffle, writes out an apology to Sam, Bobby, and John (it’s a suicide note, but it doesn’t explain anything), and then he ties a military-grade noose. He finds a chair that isn’t completely destroyed by his earlier rage and begins to tie the rope onto the ceiling fan.

He stands there for a moment, contemplating. “Am I really about to do this? I’ve fought monsters and demons and ghosts for twenty years and this is where it ends?”

He shakes his head and shrugs.

“Always knew I'd die before thirty.”

He raises the noose to his head and just as he is about to slide it around his throat… The chair breaks apart, and he's left lying on his back with the wind knocked out of him.

“FUCK!” he manages to yell out before his lungs and chest start burning again. Tears begin to pinprick at his eyes as he lays motionless (and probably concussed, he didn’t break his fall at all). “I can’t even kill myself right.” he thinks to himself.

Slowly, he gets himself off the floor, groaning at the pain in his skull and back as he does. Crawling over to his bed, he sees the glass shard he dropped earlier.

“I just want to stop this fucking FEELING” his mind screams. “Just do SOMETHING you worthless son of a bitch!”

He picks the glass back up.

Everything is hazy when his brain starts to come into focus again. His hands feel slick and wet, so he brings them to his face to see what he touched.

Blood.

His own blood.

Three long gashes across his forearm, roughly a quarter-inch deep and four inches long each. He needs to stitch himself up for sure.

30 minutes later and it just looks like a hunt gone bad, his arm is sewn up and all the motel towels are stained red.

For a fleeting moment, he feels at peace. The rush of discovering what he did in a fog of failing to kill himself and the overwhelming feeling of failing his family, he feels like this was something he deserved. Like he deserved to be punished.

After an hour of dissociating and staring at the wall, he passes out and sinks into a moment of silent nothingness. No nightmares, not yet.

Dean practically jumps out of his skin when he hears Cas’s voice from the doorway.

“Dean? You look pale. What's going on?” Castiel asks with his familiar cadence.

Dean wishes he knew what brought that memory back up. Instead, he plasters on a fake smile and shakes his head reassuringly the best he can.

“Nothing Cas, just thinking I guess. What took you so long? You burn the popcorn or somethin?” Dean knows he sounds insincere, he knows that Cas knows, too. He doesn't want Cas to worry any more than he already does, though.

“Dean, your heart rate sped up and you were on the verge of hyperventilating, what happened?”

Damn it. He should’ve known Cas could still do that weird x-ray angel shit. Instead of trying to hide it further, he sighs and motions for Castiel to sit beside him on the couch.

However, he blanches when Cas passes behind him and brushes his hand against Dean’s shoulder. Cas sits down carefully, not to overwhelm Dean. Castiel has seen him during a flashback before, especially after hell. Cas looks inviting, ready to listen to whatever Dean has to say. Cas was always trying to be open with him lately, Dean knows it’s because of the struggles the last six months.

Cas dying, if briefly. Dean ALMOST dying, because of it.

Wait…

That's when Dean realizes.

Every time he’s lost someone, it's been bad. Drunk passed out on the floor, let Baby be filthy, run into hunts without any concern for his safety, bad…

The two worst times were when he lost Sammy, and when he thought he lost Cas to the Empty.

Dean must’ve been sitting there with a strange look on his face for a while cause Cas reaches out gingerly to silently ask if he’s alright. Dean gives him a half-smile and lets out the breath he was apparently holding.

“Cas, did I ever tell you about what I did in 2004 when Sam was off at Stanford and I was hunting by myself?”

Cas tilts his head in that endearing way he always does, “Not that I recall. Is something from back then troubling you now still?”

Dean clenches his jaw and runs a hand over his mouth, a nervous tic he picked up from John decades ago. “I did something similar back then to what I did in that barn. I gave up.”

Castiel’s eyes widen a bit, starting to understand what Dean is trying to say, but staying silent, to let him get this out.

Dean cracks a wry chuckle, “y’know, when you pulled me outta hell and into my body again, I was surprised you wiped the slate and got rid of all my scars.” He glances at Castiel, just for a moment, to see his reaction. It's soft but a little confused.

“At the time, I thought you would like to come back whole. A fresh start after what you went through in hell. I know now that life is about the imperfections and that the littlest things have meaning and memories. I’m sorry if I took those from you, Dean.” Cas meets Dean’s eyes with apologetic fondness and sincerity.

“Cas, it's okay. Really. Sometimes… I don't know, there's some scars I just miss sometimes.” He runs his hand along his forearm, where the self-harm scars would’ve been. “The ones that were here… they gave me a constant reminder of what almost happened. What I almost did.” Dean can feel his face getting warm as he talks about it, eyes watering up but no tears slip down his face.

Cas seems to nod along, waiting for him to continue with concerned patience. “I tried to kill myself back in ‘04. Sam was gone and doing fine without me, he had Jess. Dad was pissed at me for not getting him to stay and hunt. I had no one. I hit a low point after finding a really fucked up case about a vengeful spirit that gutted a family, father, and two sons…” Dean chokes up, as he pictures the glazed eyes of the corpses he found. A shiver runs down his spine as he can still picture it like it was yesterday.

“You saw your father and Sam in them and it brought up a lot of emotions, that’s understandable.” Cas tries to reassure him but doesn’t quite understand what Dean’s trying to get at.

“I got drunk after I salt and burned the spirit's corpse. I felt empty inside and like nobody needed me. I couldn’t save those kids and I didn't see any point in saving myself…” tears are now flowing gently down Dean’s face as he tries to push out what he needs to say, what he needs Cas to understand about this. “When you, when you said all that stuff before you left… I felt that same exact way. Even though I had Sam and Jack and then the whole bullshit after with Chuck and Lucifer and Michael… I felt so damn alone. Like I’d failed you, cause I couldn’t even save someone I love the most.” Dean’s voice goes harsh as he full-on sobs at those last few words.

The past few months since Castiel has been back, they haven’t talked about Cas's confession before being taken by the Empty, and Dean hasn’t said it aloud (even though his mind is screaming those three words every time he looks at Cas). Dean feels Cas touch his hand gently, reverently. A sob violently racks his body as he looks up into blue eyes also filled with tears.

“I’m so sorry Dean. I’m sorry.” the last word catches in his throat as Dean grabs his hand fully, intertwining their fingers.

“I know Cas. You did it to save me. You seem to keep doing that, huh? From hell, saying yes to Michael, Billie, from myself…” Dean softly strokes his thumb against Cas’s hand while tear tracks continue to stain his face. “Cas, thank you. I know I’ll never be able to pay you back for all that you’ve done for me and for Sam but… thank you.”

They lock eyes for a moment, Dean knows Cas loves him and he knows he loves Cas. He can’t think of a goddamn thing standing in the way right now. Dean releases Cas’s hand, cups his face, and brings their lips together, finally.

It takes a moment for Castiel to understand what's happening, but he quickly catches up and kisses Dean back fervently.

Cas tastes like summer rain after a long drought, like lightning and thunder all at once, like earth and something ethereal Dean can’t quite place. Cas tastes like coming home, and he is.

“Me too, Cas. Son of a bitch, I love you too.” he whispers into Cas’s mouth as Cas lets out a sob-laugh.

They pull apart for a moment, hands still against each other's cheeks. Communicating with their eyes is something they’ve mastered after 12 years, but there's something unknown now. Something new, something hopeful. And dammit if Dean isn't going to latch on to that hope.

They decide on an old western, Dean’s seen it a hundred times before. They’re leaning into each other silently watching as Dean’s eyes begin to close. He can feel Cas running his fingers against his arm, where those scars would’ve been. It's then, in the comfort of his Angel, that Dean falls fast asleep.

For the first time in 40 years, he doesn’t have nightmares. Not of yellow eyes, not of losing Sammy; not of John’s anger, not of hell; the apocalypse, Michael, Chuck, losing Cas… it all feels distant and far behind him now. When Dean wakes again, Cas still has his arms around him, eyes closed, and is running his fingers through Dean’s hair.

Dean knows all his trauma won't just vanish, but in this moment with Cas...it feels possible.

#suicide tw #suicide for ts #self harm tw #self harm for ts #abuse tw #abuse for ts #homophobic language tw #f slur tw #dean fic #dean centric fic #sad with happy ending #deancas #destiel #15x20 fix it #fix it fic #h/c #h/c fic #2k fics #fics under 3k #ao3 #my writing #destiel fic #deancas fic #castielchrysthanthemum #jey writes shit

[theresebelivetirl]

Drunken Encounters

(part II)

note: this is a little more fluffy than i had anticipated, but i hope you enjoy nonetheless !

warnings: [ emetophobia, swearing, mentions of smut, mentions of s.a ]

word count: 1715

read part 1 here

When you woke up the next day, your head was spinning. You had to blink the black spots out of your eyes, and practically fought to sit up. You hadn’t felt this hungover in ages. You allotted yourself a little extra time to get out of bed, as you lay in limbo between consciousness and unconsciousness. Memories were all swirling together, from dancing to cliché 90s music, to the mortal girl you made out with in the bar, and finally ending up at the mortuary door. However, there was a deep seeded feeling of dread in the pit of your stomach- something you couldn’t quite place your finger on. Just then, your stomach lurched, and you had just enough time to lean over the bed and throw up into the bucket at your side. How did that bucket get there, you wondered? You brushed it off, figuring you’d have plenty of time to think when you fully regained consciousness , and made your way to the bathroom. Upon looking at yourself in mirror— seeing your smeared eyeshadow, smudged red lips and swollen, puffy eyes— you pieced together that you had had a rough night.

“My fucking head…” you groaned as you reached into the cabinet to take a few aspirin. “What happened?”

More of your senses were awakening, slowly, and you caught a whiff of yourself.

“Ugh, sweet Satan,” you muttered, swallowing back a bit of your own vomit as you turned the shower on.

You undressed, stepped in the shower, and allowed the steam and hot water to open up the rest of your blocked senses. The shower acted as a catalyst towards sobriety, and once you stepped out, you had enough sense to walk in a straight line and to get dressed.

You made yourself look presentable, at the very least, and decided it might be best to wander into the kitchen. You hadn’t thrown up in a while and thought maybe some food would help clear your head of its fog.

“Good afternoon, love,” Hilda called as she saw your head peek into the entryway. “We missed you at breakfast, but you’re just in time for pie.”

“Pie? I missed breakfast?”

“I’m afraid so, dear. It’s 2 o’clock in the afternoon..”

“Two o’clock? Why didn’t someone wake me? I mustn’t have set my alarm, I—“

“Slow down, Y/N.” It was Ambrose who spoke now, lifting his head out of the book he was reading. He was perched in a chair at the dinner table, feet perched up on it. “It’s Sunday. Plus, we heard you had quite the night last night. Auntie Zee told us to go easy on you,” he added, cheekily, before burying his nose back in his book.

“Ambrose,” Hilda chided lightly.

Your body stiffened when he mentioned Zelda, and some memories soon came flooding back, the familiar feeling of dread creeping upon you.

“And, ah…where is Zelda, at the moment?”

“She’s at the academy, love” Hilda informed, pulling a lovely looking pie out of the oven.

“Father Blackwood called her to a meeting. She said she’ll be back ‘round suppertime.”

“Oh…Well, I needed to talk to her about something.”

“Whatever it is can wait until after you’ve tried some of my pie, I’m sure. It looks positively delightful, doesn’t it?” she asked, giddily.

Her excitement caused you to smile slightly, and you couldn’t help but to indulge her. You grabbed a slice and sat down at the table with Ambrose. The taste of the pie was exquisite, and you were almost sure Hilda had enchanted it. Your worry had ceased to exist, by the time you had finished.

The rest of the day was spent doing menial chores for the family. You helped Hilda clean the kitchen, tidied up the mortuary, and even helped tend to the garden, for a short while. After having dinner, Hilda asked if you could help her tidy that up, as well. You agreed, always eager to please the family that took you in. As you were drying dishes, you heard the front door open. Your dread instantly came back, and your blood ran cold when you heard the sound of Zelda’s heels clicking against the wooden floor.

“Hilda, I do hope there are some leftovers. I’m absolutely famished,” Zelda began, taking a puff of her cigarette. “Oh, hello, Y/N.”

She regarded you with pleasantry, and it drove you mad. Throughout the day, you had managed to put together the missing pieces from your memory. You knew what you had told Zelda, and it almost felt as though she was mocking you.

“I can finish cleaning, Hilda,” you said, placing the drying towel down on the counter.

“Well, if you’re sure. Dr. Cee has been wanting to see me all week, so this will be absolutely lovely. Thank you so much.” She grinned at you and was already practically out the door, bouncing with excitement.

Once Hilda left, you placed a plate of warmed leftovers in front of Zelda and took a seat across from her.

“Thank you,” Zelda said, plainly.

Silence consumed the room as Zelda ate, and you were growing increasingly tense. However, you were not one to run away from a conflict— no matter how embarrassing it was— without talking about it, at the very least.

After a few more rounds of vexatious silence, you blurted, “Um, about last night. I’ve had all day to think about it, and I just wanted to apologize...”

She looked up at you, a straight expression on her face that was rather hard for you to read.

“I accept your apology,” she stated simply, and took another bite.

“That’s it?”

“Well, no, that’s not it. We have to take into consideration new means of exchange for your staying here. But I do appreciate the apology.”

Was she not getting it? You wondered, did she not understand that this wasn’t about your workload, or was she purposely trying to ignore it? You kept to yourself for a while longer, and this time, Zelda broke the silence.

“How was the rest of your night? You were in quite a lamentable state when I left you.”

“What? Oh, ah, I threw up for probably another hour after you left, though I can hardly remember. But, ugh, I couldn’t care less about that, Zee. Right now, I’m trying to talk about the other lamentable thing. What I said, about fucking you.”

Her eyes widened at your crudeness, and even you were taken back by your sudden urgency.

“Oh…” it clearly made her uncomfortable, as she averted her eyes when the subject was brought up. Zelda then took a deep breath and pushed her plate out of her way.

“The manner in which it was brought up was terribly embarrassing, and I despise feeling that way. But, there was some truth to it, I must admit.”

You blinked the surprise out of your eyes, staring at her in disbelief.

“Some truth to it?”

“Mm, yes...Perhaps I was so embarrassed because I found the idea rather pleasant, even though it felt wrong. Also, I thought you were mocking me, at first. I do find my eyes lingering on you, from time to time. And I was, perhaps, too indisposed to admit it.”

You were staring at her intently now, your teeth nervously gnawing on your bottom lip.

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

“What’s that?”

“That you want to fuck me too?”

Zelda let out a deep chuckle at your attempted humor.

“Perhaps put less crudely.. I’m sorry, Y/N. I’m rather repentant that this matter was not discussed sooner. It’s foolish of me to deny it any longer. I do have feelings for you, too.”

You were shocked, your mouth left slightly agape. Zelda took your hands from across the table, giving them a gentle squeeze.

She continued, “I just thought it would be rather inappropriate to have relations with an employee-carnal or otherwise- but if you feel as though it could work, I could be so inclined as to take your opinion into consideration. And, besides, you are much more than an employee now.”

A smirk played on her lips, and you took this as an invitation to stand and walk over to her.

“May I?” You asked, looking down at her lap.

She hesitated, just momentarily before nodding and biting her lip. You straddled the older witch, cupping her face gently in your hands before pressing a soft kiss to her lips.

“Well, my opinion is yes. If that wasn’t obvious already.” You giggled, and Zelda smiled tenderly. This is the most relaxed you had felt in weeks. As you leaned into her embrace, you smelt the intoxicating mix of cigarettes and rosemary upon her clothing. Zelda’s touch was warm and gentle, and you could have easily imagined yourself lying in her arms for the rest of the night.

“I never thought that it would end like this,” you murmured, against her lips after kissing her again.

She hummed in response, tucking a strand of hair behind your ears as she cupped your cheek in return.

“Nor did I, but I’m glad it is. Your lips are as soft as I had imagined.”

You blushed, letting out a soft giggle into her lips.

“You’ve imagined what my lips felt like before?”

“More often than I should like to admit.”

You moaned as she rested her hands on your thighs.

“Eager little witch,” she teased gently, which caused you to whine in response.

“You have no idea how long I’ve kept this to myself, Zee..”

“Well, you no longer have to.”

She pulled you in for another kiss, letting her tongue run over your bottom lip.

“Ambrose and Sabrina are still home,” you reminded.

“Right. And Satan knows how long Hilda will be gone,” Zelda added. “Shall we continue upstairs?”

You nodded altogether too eagerly, which caused Zelda to chuckle. You moved off of her lap and she stood, offering you her hand. You took it and together, walked up the stairs, to your bedroom to continue where you had left off. This could be the start of something that you had been wanting for as long as you had known her. Perhaps you could finally call her your Zelda.

tags: [ @hallospaceboyy ]

#caos #sabrina spellman #chilling adventures of sabrina #zelda spellman #zelda spellman x reader #hilda #hilda spellman #fic #caos fic #caos fandom #ambrose spellman

[exosmutfactory]

How I Look On You 003

Chun-hei is stuck between feeling too busy to commit and too young to settle down. And with her bustling book publisher business, bachelors and alike are all swarming around her for a chance at publicity. She’s doing a good job at keeping the men at bay—until Byun Baekhyun, that is. Doesn’t mean he’ll have it easy though.

Part 1 |  Part 2 |  Part 3 ✓ |  Part 4 |  Part 5 |

•⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •

The Struggle

---

Uh, I make my money, and I write the checks

So say my name with a little respect

All my girls successful, and you're just our guest

Do I really need to say it?

Do I need to say it again, yeah?

You better stop the sweet talk

And keep your pretty mouth shut

---

“Fuck,” I pant, leaning back into my seat. “Mmm god, Baekhyun.”

The raven moans from between my legs, sucking harder on my clit as I tug on his hair in abandon.

“You’re so fucking good,” Purring lowly while running a hand through his hair, I tighten my grip again; arching against his mouth when he lightly drags his teeth across the sensitive bud. “I’m close.”

“Mmm.” He slides a finger inside, slipping in another one when he receives no resistance from my sopping core.

My moans grow louder in volume as he repeatedly hits my g-spot; that familiar knot in my stomach getting ready to release with every suck and swirl of his tongue on my clit. When my orgasm hits a loud ringing fills my ears; black dots circling my vision as I stare up open-mouthed at the ceiling. Thighs quivering around his head as he keeps lapping at my aching folds.

“You taste so fucking good,” He growls, moving between my parted legs while I look up at him in a daze. His hard member sliding along my soaking core causing both our breaths to hitch.

“Baek,” I panted, gripping his shirt. Please.

He slips inside; all hot, rigid and raw. I can feel every vein on his cock as I tighten my greedy walls.

“Look at you,” He grunts, snapping his hips and bottoming out with every thrust; the painfully good pressure at my cervix leaving me breathless. “So needy for my cock, baby. Have you missed me?”

Digging my nails into his leather seats, I can only moan and gasp with his every move; that familiar feeling of blooming pride swelling in my chest. My back arches to new heights when he roughly rubs my recovering clit; a cry pulled from my lips when he speeds up his rough movements. Sex is always good, but fuck, Baekhyun’s sex is out worldly.

“Fuck you look so beautiful like this,” He breathes; hair dangling in his brown eyes that are filled with an emotion I’m too blissed out to decipher right now. My grip on his back deepens the more that all too familiar knot forms in my stomach.

“Chunhei.”

It takes all my effort to open my eyes and meet his again; a flow of pleasured noises I haven't made in years falling from my lips when he tilts my hips at a higher angle and slams right into my spot. I can only describe the look in his eyes as fondness as I tip over that blissful edge.

“God.” Baekhyun groans, hips stuttering at my spasming walls gripping his cock. His head snaps up from our joined parts, “W-Wait where can I cum?” The breathy tone of his voice has me tightening even more around him, pulling an almost pained moan from his thoroughly kiss-swollen lips. “Fuck baby, I can’t-”

“I-Inside.” I gasp, wrapping my thighs tightly around his waist, “Fill me up, Baekhyun.”

The whiny moan from his lips as he cums is devastatingly adorable, although I’d never tell him that. Or how right it feels to have his warmth filling up my walls. Can’t have him getting too attached now, can we? 

Our heavy breaths mingle in the heat of the fogged-up car as I move to reach for the tissue box on the passenger’s seat. “My meeting is in 30 minutes,” I sigh, trying my best to ignore his tempting kisses on my neck.

Baekhyun pauses, making a noise in protest. “10 more minutes with me?”

“Baek, after all that you’d be lucky if I came in 40.” I chuckle breathlessly, checking my Rolex. “Didn’t you say you had somewhere to be as well?” Quirking a brow, I turn back to him, blinking at the odd look in his eyes. He shifts his brown orbs away before I can identify it. “Yeah.” He clears his throat, leaning back to help clean up the mess. “I have to show an intern around.”

“Ooo that sounds like fun,” I smirk, laughing at the sour look on his face. “Oh come on, it can’t be that bad.”

“Imagine having someone ¾ s of your age following you around,” He grumbles; nose adorably scrunched as he gently wipes our aftermath from my inner thighs.

Ugh. Accountants and their ways of math—but wait. I tilt my head, “How old are you?”

Baekhyun freezes, hand right over my mound before mumbling something under his breath.

“Hmm?” I tuck a red manicured finger under his chin, looking into his sparkly brown orbs.

“I..” He hesitates, gulping. A red hue covering the tips of his ears. “24,” He mumbles.

“..Huh,” I lick my lips, grinning; keeping his gaze locked on mine. “And you’re just telling me this now?”

“Y-You never asked,” He looks off to the right before meeting my eyes with his defensive ones, “What? Is it a problem?”

“No,” I insist, shaking my head with a coy smile. “Just making sure,” My finger lightly traces down his neck to his delectable collarbones; his gulp adding sparks to a cooled down flame, “I’m not corrupting you.”

Baekhyun looks up at me then in all his unbuttoned shirt and sex tussled hair glory, biting that damn bottom lip of his, “And what if you are?”

I scoff, snarling playfully and giving him a light shove, “You wish. Come on before we ruin your seats.”

Together we finish cleaning off ourselves and the driver’s seat. Throwing used tissues in the trash bag under the passenger’s seat and looking all over for my earring and his tie. “Here,” I gently take it from his hands, straightening it, “You’re looking a little crooked there.”

Baekhyun says nothing as I end up retying the knot; his gaze burning on my concentrating form.

“There,” I smooth it out with a small smile, reaching for my purse while he runs a hand through his hair and steps out the car. The cold wintry air feels amazing on my heated skin.

“So,” He clears his throat, avoiding my eyes. I lightly tap my nails on the dashboard, very aware of the ticking on the clock. “Can I...see you after this?” He falters, peeking meekly over at me.

“I need to be able to walk tomorrow, Baek,” I mumble, reapplying my lipstick in the mirror.

“T-That’s fine, I mean...” He rocks back on the balls of his feet, “Do you.. want to go out for dinner or some-”

Wincing a little, I murmur, “I’m staying later to monitor everyone during overtime tonight.” My chest tightens uncomfortably after I utter those words. And even more so when I see the crestfallen look on his face.

“Oh..” He rubs the back of his neck, looking down at his shoes before meeting my eyes. “Are you free anytime this week?”

I don’t say anything—I can’t bear to as he looks at me with those damn sad puppy eyes that tug at a deep place hidden inside my chest. So I lightly shake my head, clearing my throat before returning my focus back to the purse in my hands. And the vibrating phone in my lap. “I’ll have to sprint if I plan to make it on time.” I note, eyes wide at the “2 minutes to spare” reminder flashing across the screen.

Baekhyun merely nods, moving out the way as I step out into the cold. The temperature is nearly unbearable as I take a step away from his warmth.

“I’ll text you the next time I’m free,” I mumble, throwing him one last look over my shoulder. I pat his arm while walking pass, trying to ignore the dejected look on his face. “See you ‘round.”

“Yeah,” He murmurs, the rest of his words taken away by the mid-December wind.

I huddle further into my wool coat as I round the corner. Quickly making my way into the building despite the light layer of ice covering the sidewalk before my gloveless fingers go numb. The gust of heat greeting me once I step through the door doing little to warm me up on the inside.

“Chun-hei!” Snapping my head up, my eyes widen at the frazzled secretary near sprinting across the floor, “Jihun, what-”

“You’re 10 minutes late!” She hisses, grabbing my wrist before bolting back over to the elevators. “Thank goodness the illustrator was able to distract the reviewers and the author with a selection of book covers. Your ass needs to be in there now.”

I give a speedy reply, thankfully making it to the meeting room in one piece despite our haste through freely cleaned, (and slippery,) floors. It takes everything in me to stop Jihun from literally bursting through the door before quickly checking over our appearances and walking through the entry with the expected swiftness and grace.

“Good morning everyone, sorry I’m late.” Briefly glancing over the blank and slightly irritated expressions on their faces, I drape my coat over the back of my chair, swiftly moving to start the presentation on the whiteboard. “Let’s get down to business, shall we?”

➽➼►♦⇔♦➽➼►♦⇔♦➽➼►

“I know you’re happy getting dicked down on the regular, Chun-hei, but fuck.” Jihun paces the empty room, running careful mint-green manicured fingers through her hair, “You’ve never been late to a meeting before.”

All I can do is press my forehead to the table and groan. Please don’t remind me. Thinking about all the nonsense I spluttered to Baekhyun in my hurry to escape makes me wince. Overtime? Being busy for the rest of the week? I just sent my workers off on a mini-vacation for being so diligent these past 3 months.

“Really, I know it’s doing you some good, but you’re really distracted now too.” I know she’s only speaking the truth, but it still hurts my pride knowing that someone—a horny man none the less—has managed to cloud my judgment again. To knock me off my tight-knit schedule and mess up a little of my reputation. And only with keeping my bed warm every now and then? Has my self worth stooped this low?

Or is it my guard being let down around him; my subconscious muses.

I shove that thought down fast.

“Jihun,” Her name comes out more whiny than intended. Though it stops her right in her tracks. “What?”

“I need help,” I mumble. In more way than one if I’m being honest. 

“With what—Baekhyun hasn’t done anything has he?” Her heels click rhythmically as she approaches the table, taking the seat next to me. “If he fucked you over, I swear-”

“No, no,” I shake my head, waving my hand around, “None of that. I need a drink.”

“..A drink?..”

“Straight up vodka,” I lift my head, nodding to myself, “And five shots.”

She gives me a pensive look, sharp eyes quickly picking up on the situation. “I’ll call the girls.”

Giving an appreciative hum, I let my head drop back to the table with a sigh. Willing away the thoughts of black hair and hypnotizing brown eyes. What the fuck have I gotten myself into.

“Let me get this straight,” Minji taps her chin, a glass of mojito resting between her fingertips, “You’ve been sleeping with this guy for a few weeks-”

“Months,” I mumble petulantly, nursing my own glass with shaky hands, “Over two months.”

“Over two months,” She repeats, “And when he asks you on a date, you freak out.” She concludes, setting stunned eyes onto me.

I shrug despite the lump in my throat; tugging uncomfortably at the neck of my crocheted long-sleeved black dress, “Pretty much.”

“Girl!” There is no time to avoid a snack to my arm. All I can do is cover the throbbing area and whimper at the pain. “He likes you, dummy!”

“Sure he does,” I roll my eyes, ignoring the fast pace of my heart; leaning against the counter when the room starts to spin. “We could say the same about-” I hiccup, “-Seojun.”

“Seojun has been far up his own ass since day one,” Jihun’s voice manages to float over the headache-inducing bass of the club. Perfect nails sticking out like sore thumbs under the neon lights, “It’s our fault for giving him the benefit of the doubt.” 

“How nice of you,” I murmur, taking my last shot glass with a sigh.

“Anyways,” Minji perks up, energy cranked up to 100 as she drunkenly sways to the unfamiliar dubstep, “I think you should totally give this Baekhyun guy a chance.”

An unwanted warm feeling blossoms in my chest at the prospect. I shove the drunken hope down quickly and make a noise in protest, “But-”

Another smack. “No buts!” She huffs. Jihun stands behind her covering up her snickering with a shot glass. “If you keep going on like this you’ll have too much money and not enough kids to help with college tuition—and I know you want to pay that college tuition-”

“But if said college tuition didn’t exist-” I almost trip over a stool trying to lean back from her raised hand and narrowed eyes, “Okay okay, you’re right!”

“Damn straight.” She huffs, turning to Jihun. “I can’t believe Seoyeon isn’t here.”

“Nah, it’s alright,” I drape my head over my folded arms, closing my eyes. Instantly being greeted by the sight of pink pouty lips and brown kicked puppy eyes. “She’d ruin the mood.”

“True, she gets all stiff when you mention men,” Jihun murmurs; cheeks already rosy as she throws back another shot. Sighing while taking a look around, “But why isn’t she here? It’s not like her to miss the opportunity.”

Minji starts to say something but makes a gagging noise.

My eyes shoot open as I quickly move out of her range, looking her over frantically from a safe distance. “Min!” Jihun pats her gasping form on the back, carefully setting down her mojito before resting a hand on her shoulder, “Are you okay?” Our petite friend refuses to respond, an action that makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand as she gazes with an open mouth somewhere behind us; face turning pale. Curiosity getting the best of me, I slowly turn around to follow her line of sight.

I honestly can’t say that I’m surprised.

Seojun eyes me from across the room; brown hair messily swiped across his forehead. Seated in a booth with his shirt unbuttoned and two attention-seeking women pressed to his side. Dark brown eyes sweeping over my form. It’s sad to admit that that is how he won me over a year ago. There’s no denying his genuine model-quality looks, I’m just pissed that he used my name to get the career and the girls... And everything else he wanted. That familiar shit-eating grin on his face making my blood boil.

Someone blocks him from view; a woman with peach-colored hair that causes a spark to light up in his dark brown eyes. All I can determine is her familiar stature before a gag rings in my ear and the fluid I wanted to avoid the most falls down my dress.

I squeeze my eyes shut as Jihun pulls a sick Minji away, using all my willpower not to yell at the drunkenly swaying woman while bidding them a gruff goodbye and heading out to call a cab.  A few tears escape my eyes when the disgusting substance starts sticking to my skin. Great, this is exactly how I pictured my night to go. I manage to give the driver an address before curling up on the backseat, mindful to keep the mess from spreading to the back of the cab. The last time I rode in one of these vivid in my mind while idly running my fingertips over the back of the leather seat. A small smile curling at my lips. Huh, one night stand turned into something more, hm? 

I’m startled awake by the driver, leaving him with 5 dollars extra before stepping back out into the cold night. The apartment complex in front of me making my eyes widen in realization. Have I seriously memorized his address after riding in a cab with him about two...three times? I’d call another cab if I could remember the password to my own phone.

Next thing I know, I’m swaying a bit in front of his door. Second-guessing myself a moment too late when he’s already pulling it open; yawning like a baby lion and sleep-dazed brown eyes widening significantly. “Chunhei?” He breathes, face painted in disbelief.

I stiffen, suddenly sobering up and turning red in realization. Showing up at his doorstep at who knows what hour after practically running out on him this morning? I look down at my ruined dress, feel the sticky streaks of mascara on my cheeks and gag at the overwhelming smell of sweat and alcohol now that I’m out of that stuffy environment. Am I out of my fucking mind!? I gulp, palms getting ridiculously clammy. “I...” His sparkly brown eyes aren’t helping either. I turn away, already heading back to the elevator, “I-I’m sorry, I must have sleepwalked-”

“Stay.” He utters; soft and inviting.

I look down at his hand circled around my wrist, hoping he can’t feel my heartbeat as I follow it up to his cute face. Sleepy brown orbs eyeing me knowingly. There’s no use trying to hide how my gaze sweeps over his fluffy bedhead and pouty lips swollen from sleep before meeting his again. Even in nothing but a wrinkle white t-shirt and flannel pajama pants, Byun Baekhyun is the most stunning man I’ve ever seen.

“Okay,” I whisper. Stiffening again when he gently smiles, sliding his hand down to hold mine. He giggles—actually giggles—at the unsure look on my face before leading me into his home. And really, if I wasn’t so messy I might even give him a... hug.

•⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •

Part 1 |  Part 2 |  Part 3 ✓ |  Part 4 |  Part 5 |

Hi yes this chapter is late because I was 2 seconds away from scraping the whole thing, but I think I managed to finish it okay? It's not what I originally planned but when does a plan ever go perfectly? XD I hope you liked it anyway♡♡

Thank you all for supporting this story, have a good weekend! 

#baekhyun smut #baekhyun angst #baekhyun fluff #baekhyun romance

[minervahopebeyond]

Blood Daffodils.

Chapter 23: The Battle of Hogwarts (part 2) <<part 2/3>>

The forest seemed so beautiful in that exact moment. Even with everything.

The sky was starting to clear up, the dark sky started to be light blue around the edges (or the horizon? He wasn’t sure what he could call that)... If Draco were there he would point out that it meant that the Witching hour was ending, that everything that happen from that moment on, during the day, would be more terrenal, The Veil, the souls would get more settled down on the other side and would not intervine in the slightest to the events in the living realm. Harry had always liked the Witching hour, even from before he knew what it was, he always found it comforting to stay up late... He wasn’t sure if it was because of the insomnia or someone visiting him even though he couldn’t see them.

Now, it was probably almost six a.m. It was those hours where the fog still caressed the trees seemed to walk the forest along with him. It was impossible to hear a single animal, Harry guessed they had scared them all off with the battle.

He could hear their voices near, not enough for them notice him approaching, but he could.

Knowing that you are going to die brings somewhat of relief to the act of living, he noticed everything about what was surrounding him. It was like he didn’t care for keeping himself alive, therefore, he could take a moment to admire a rather nice flower that was growing next to the roots of the tree besides him.

The snitch was heavy on his hand. Another sensation he would never have again, the feeling of catching the snitch.

He looked at it, the words ‘I open at the close’ appeared again in beautiful cursive letters. Dumbledore’s handwriting.

“I’m ready to die.” He whispered to it before bringing it to his lips and softly kissing the metal.

The snitch opened itself. Leaving a small stone floating in front of him.

He took a deep breath before taking it in his hands. Trying to focalize what he wanted, who he wish to see. He closed his hand around it, closing his eyes.

When he opened them, his mother was standing there, smiling. Not aged a day, just like his father when he crossed to this Realm.

“Hi.” It’s the only thing he can formulate, his eyes already watering.

“Hi, love.”

“Your eyes are really green.”

“Yours are too.” She replied with amusement in her voice.

“Are you alone there? Now that dad-“

She quickly shook her head.

“I have Marlene here, she is a good friend. I don’t know it your father can recall something from this side... but we wandered around with her and Regulus most of the time.”

“Regulus? That’s Padfoot’s brother.”

“Yes, he is very funny, just like Sirius. For what I could spy from here, I believe you would think he was more like Draco.” She said with a look that made Harry understand that she approves of him, that she liked them together. “And I believe an old friend will be joining us soon.”

“Snape.”

“Severus, yes.”

“He called you-“

“We were just kids. Doesn’t make it right but it’s still true. I think you have a very close example of how people can redeem themselves and change... I’m still going to chase his sorry arse for a few months first though, didn’t enjoy how he treated you in the slightest. He always had a twisted sense of humor.”

Harry snorted and offered her a smile.

“What’s yours?”

“What’s what?”

“Your sense of humor. I know dad’s humor is now.”

She crooked her head, her stunning deep-red hair falling to the side.

“I like mean jokes, dark humor...Your father always enjoyed laughing from silly things. Always only took a few words to reminded him he was the most ridiculous human being I’ve ever met.”

“Dad says my sass comes from you.”

“That would be correct, your father liked it. Severus on the other hand... kind of hated it and still found it amusing all the same. I like the one where you said to him ‘There is no need to call me Sir, Professor’, I laughed for days after that one.

And her laughter echoed around the forest, only for Harry to realize that they laughed the same way, with a snort at first and that little chocking sound in the middle.

“I love you. I wish we could have had out time here.” Harry said. He was crying again. He lost count of how much he had cried that day.

She reached out to touch him but couldn’t, because she was not here... Not really. But seeing her hand over his shoulder was almost like feeling her touch, he could imagined it.

“I love you too. And we can have our time there, don’t cry, love.”

“Does it hurt?”

“You don’t feel a thing, quicker than falling asleep.”

“And you will be there with me?” He asked, he felt his fingers trembling so he tightened his grip around the stone.

“Always.”

For a moment, hearing her saying those words made Harry regret to not have a proper conversation with Snape through all those years... Clearly they talked the same sometimes. Maybe he could have heard stories about his mother that weren’t based on his Dad thinking she was pretty and funny.

He put the stone carefully in his pocket and walked to meet his end.

He saw Narcissa and Lucius again. Harry had this unbearable need to tell them to go look for Draco, to hug him before it was too late. After all, he could only hope that Hermione and Ron would get to kill Nagini after he was gone.

He really hated Tom Riddle’s snake-alike face. His only regret in all this was that he would be seeing him last in this world, those disgusting red eyes... That was going to be the last thing he saw.

But then he noticed Hagrid when he heard him plead for Harry to run away, to not be a fool. He focused on him as he heard Voldemort’s voice.

“Harry Potter... the boy who lived, came to die.”

How fucking poetic.

‘So here goes nothing.’

“AVADA KEDABRA.” And the green light hit him square in the chest.

Everything was white and bright. His first thought was that if all the afterlife was this fucking bright he would need sunglasses.

It looked like King's Cross Station. But white. Like someone had forgotten to ad the colors to a painting and left the drawing only with the black pencil traces.

“Hello, Harry James Potter.”

A woman’s voice, but it was not his mother’s. He raised his eyes to look at whoever said those words and found a gorgeous woman with long silky black hair, wearing a very transparent dress. Harry could see her entire body perfectly.

He walked over her, his cheeks as red as he didn’t even imagine possible for the afterlife.

Once he was standing in front of her he had to fight with every single fiber in his body to keep his eyes on her face. He failed.

“Oh, the other one never looks. Let me just...”

And with a wave of her hand, the transparent dress was replaced by a beautiful silver gown that seemed to be made of stars with how much it glittered.

“Who are you?” Harry asked and the woman just raised an eyebrow. “Death?���

“Yes.”

“Well... is this it? I don’t see my mother-“

“No. You are in what your people would call the Limbo. I call it the In Between.”

“Why does it look like King’s Cross?” He asked pulling a face. It seemed so boring.

She started to walk around the station and Harry followed her as she kept on talking.

“Everything presents to the new soul in a way they found familiar. My only guess it’s that your first happy memory was in here.”

The first time he got on the Hogwarts Express. Meeting Ron. Making his first friend.

“I’m actually surprised you chose for me to look like me. Most of them choose someone they miss and trust.”

Harry looked at her. She seemed genuinely happy about what she had just told him. He remembered something that Draco said:

‘Can you imagine being a deity that nobody loves? Everyone fears her too much to accept her.’

“But it’s always you, right? You receive the souls.”

“It is always me. I’m just a very good actress.” She said before laughing. It sounded like a soft melody, everything about her was enchanting and beautiful.

She took a seat on one of the benches and Harry did the same.

“You are now the first and only Master of Death to ever exist. You can add that title to the extensive curriculum you have, boy.”

Harry frowned.

“What?”

“You possess all three of the Deathly Hallows, The Invisibility Cloak, The Resurrection Stone and The Elder Wand... And even having all those items, you decided to face Death rather than to run away from me.”

“I don’t have the Elder Wand.”

“I can’t talk about the Hallows in the Living Realm. I can only tell you what I told you.” It seemed like a spell was casted on her tongue and she couldn’t even pronounce other words. She couldn’t explain. “ A rightful Master of Death can choose his time. What do you wish to do?”

He felt like he was floating just from hearing her. He couldn’t contain the smile that appeared on his lips.

“You mean I can go back?”

“Yes.” She answered simply.

But then, he remembered.

“But I’m a Horcrux... If I go back he can’t die.”

She took a deep breath as she looked away. He could hear a train coming their way, the clickety-clack approaching them.

“I always hated that man. He called me with rituals but never paid his debts. Just like the Three Brothers. You give humans gifts and they destroy everything in their path.” Death turned to look at Harry, her dark deep eyes staring at him. “Do you have The Stone?”

Oh. He almost had forgotten about that. He took it out of his pocket and offered it to her.

“This was probably the worst decision in my entire eternity and now I can finally destroy it.”

The conversation with his mother replayed in his mind.

“I liked that one. I think it was very kind of you...”

Death let out a snort.

“You would think that. Everybody does.”

“Then whats the problem?”

“It makes living souls want to join their love ones here. Contrary to popular belief, I do not wish for my Realm to have more souls than the absolute necessary.”

Blue flames surrounded The Stone, it felt like ice rather than fire.

“Et periit, attuleris mortem”

And the little stone evaporated in the blue flames.

The train entered the station, all white too, it was like the colors could not be part of the In Between.

“The Horcrux in you was destroyed. Personally, I think the method was rather unnecessary. Your Headmaster was a brilliant man, I’m surprised he did not think about something less traumatic.” Then she smiled at him. “But it is good that it happened as it did. You will realize why... soon enough.”

He started to walk towards the train but turned around as he remembered something. He would not get a chance like this and it would be a shame, Death was very nice.

“Thank you for giving me my father back. And thank you for letting Draco stay.”

She smiled kindly at him.

“That boy loves you very very much.” She stated, nodding. “And can I tell you a little secret?”

Harry nodded sightly, without saying a word, he just wanted answers.

“I didn’t want him here for loving you. That would have been unfair, don’t you think?”

“Did you... Did you know how I felt? Or how was I going to feel for him?”

She smirked and made a gesture like she were locking her own mouth and throwing away the key.

Of course She had known. Apparently Harry and Draco were the only ones who hadn’t realized it back then.

He smiled at her and turned around to get on the train, he could hear the whistle announcing the departure...

Harry had expected to see the train ride, at least a little bit. In reality, he just found himself in the Forest again, lying on the leaves and dry branches.

He heard someone approach him under the order to check if he was alive or not.

He kept his eyes closed, calculating how little chance of escaping death he had, now that the Resurrection Stone had been destroyed and he was no longer Master of anything...

Someone knelt next to him, putting fingers on his neck to check his pulse. They were women’s fingers, he noticed.

“Is Draco alive? Is he in the castle?”

The whisper was barely audible; she was giving showing her back to the rest of them. Harry couldn’t see if someone else was with them but he guessed that this was his only chance to escape.

And it was Draco’s mother. He wasn’t about to lie to her.

“Yes,” He breathed back.

He felt Narcissa standing up again.

“Dead.” She declared without the slightest fear in her voice and Harry understood where had Draco gotten his bravery and protectiveness from.

“You see?” screeched Voldemort over the tumult. “Harry Potter is dead by my hand, and no man alive can threaten me now! Watch! Crucio!”

It took everything in him to not move an inch. Expecting that unbearable pain, that heat in his veins that made him want to die rather than to fight... but the pain never came.

He heard laughter, mostly Bellatrix’s, her laugh was the most distinguishable of them all; very high pitched, a lunatic’s laughter.

He also could hear Hagrid crying. He was so tired of hearing people he loved crying.

——————————

#drarry #fanfic #fanfiction

[michaelgambons]

This is my first ever Drabble/imagine/ fanfic (whatever you want to call it!) so please bare with! It’s set in the UK, so if you encounter any unfamiliar language, places or references, please shoot me a message!

This chapter is intended to set the scene and introduce the characters, but it will get more exciting soon!

Baseline Romantic

Chapter 1

It was pouring with rain as the train pulled into the station. Grimacing slightly against the cold wind that was coming in from the gap in the train door, Y/N turned the collar of her coat up and picked up her bag, ready to hop off the train and made a dash for the nearest cover.

Once off the train and under shelter, Y/N paused slightly before heading for the exit. She bowed her head slightly against the rain, but it still managed to trickle down her neck and a shiver ran through her. It wasn’t just the cold and the wet that was making her shiver, though. As much as she was excited to see her friends, the idea of spending a long weekend socialising was enough to make her take a deep breath to steady herself.

For the last 10 years, without fail, Y/N and her friends had gathered in Charlie’s mum’s house on the outskirts of Peterborough for the August bank holiday. The tradition had been borne out of the boredom of the university summer holidays, during which, when stuck at home, too broke to travel, too lazy to work and keen to return to the freedom of university, they had spent the remainder of their student finance on train fares to spend the long weekend together. Charlie’s mum’s house was perfect for the piss up that ensued; it was in the middle of nowhere so they could play music as loud as they wanted, as late as they wanted, and, crucially, Charlie’s mum spent most of the year living at her boyfriend’s in Surrey. The weekends had become the stuff of legend.

As she stepped out of the station and glanced around for a lift, a horn sounded. Looking around for its source, she spotted a battered Land Rover parked a few meters away, whose driver and passenger were waving furiously at her, grins splashed across their faces. Y/N’s face broke into a wide smile as she ran across the car park to join them.

———

Half an hour later, nestled in front of a roaring fire, gin and tonic grasped in her hand, Y/N had finally started to warm up. She sighed deeply to herself, closing her eyes and allowing herself to relax into the deep sofa, but a sudden roar of laughter brought her back to the room.

‘I’m so glad you managed to come, Y/N’ Catherine said. ‘I can’t believe you were going to put your *job* ahead of spending time with your friends’ she continued with a laugh.

Y/N smiles vaguely. ‘Mate me too’ she replied. ‘Honestly though, it was touch and go right until yesterday! If the shite weather hadn’t meant that the trip had to be cancelled, you wouldn’t have been graced with my company at all’

‘What trip was this?’ Dominic asked, putting down his beer.

‘Urghhh, don’t get me started’ Y/N said. ‘It was the most stereotypical thing ever. I was taking some MP’s on a ruddy fishing trip to talk to them about protecting freshwater rivers’.

She looked round and saw everyone staring at her, unsure whether to take her seriously or not.

‘I’m not joking!’ She said, laughing. ‘It’s as ridiculous as it sounds- I would have had to have worn fucking fishing trousers. Believe me, I’m much happier, and warmer, to be here.’

‘No Dan?’ Misha asked.

Y/N grimaced internally. She was hoping she could have had at least one G&T before she had to answer that question. She didn’t need reminding of the massive argument they had had just before she’d left. Her boyfriend Dan hated these gatherings; hated the fact that they pushed him out of his comfort zone by having to spend the weekend with people who weren’t constantly plotting the next Bolshevik revolution, like he was.

‘I just don’t understand why you like these people, Y/N. They’re all so painfully middle class and you just spend the weekend drinking overpriced wine and eating twattish Waitrose food’ he had shouted as she had packed.

‘You’re being ridiculous Dan’ she had yelled back. ‘These people are as left wing and educated as they come. Just because they don’t sing Red Flag to themselves every morning doesn’t mean that they’re as vapid as you seem to think they are.’

They hadn’t managed to resolve the argument before she’d had to leave for her train. There was, ultimately, no resolution to it. Dan had taken a dislike to her friends ever since he’d met them, two bank holidays ago. He’d spent the evening on the same sofa as she was now sat on, preaching about the Marxist benefits of agriculture. Happy to entertain this for the initial hour, Y/N and her friends had happily joined in. When, 2 hours later, he showed no sign of wanting to change the subject, they had all gradually excused themselves to bed.

‘Ignorant Tories’ Dan had muttered to Y/N as they got ready for bed.

Back in the present, Y/N took a gulp of her drink before she replied.

‘He had some protest I think? He says hello though!’ she said, trying to sound bubbly and casual as she lied through her teeth.

No one seemed to question this though, and the conversation gradually drifted back to what they were going to have for dinner. Catherine, however, caught her eye from across the room, and motioned her outside.

When Y/N joined Catherine outside, she’s shivering under her coat, cigarette in hand, glancing up at the sky and grimacing at the black cloud that is looming over them.

‘So’ Catherine says. ‘Why is Dan really not here? I didn’t believe a minute of that protest bullshit’.

Y/N might have realised that, if anyone was going to see past her feeble excuse, it would be Catherine. Catherine who had lived with her on and off for the last 10 years. The only one of her friends Dan liked and simultaneously the friend of hers who liked Dan the least.

She’d just finished telling Catherine the story, when the backdoor opened again and Ben came into the garden. He stopped as soon as he saw their serious expressions though and gestured back to the door.

‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt- just wanted a cig. I’ll come back...’

He turned to leave, but Y/N shouted after him.

‘Don’t be ridiculous Ben, it’s not a state secret. Just Dan being a shit’ Y/N said.

Ben smiles sympathetically as he comes over to the two of them. He lights a cigarette and runs his hand through his shocking blonde hair.

‘Actually Ben, you could be useful. Y/N tell Ben the same thing you told me.’ Catherine said.

Five minutes later, Ben had been fully debriefed. Both girls turned to him to see his reaction; he took a drag of his cigarette, brow furrowed.

‘He’s being a complete fucking idiot’. He says, bluntly. ‘Totally disrespectful. You don’t always have to like your partners friends, but you should always make an effort. That’s what being in a relationship is for fucks sake’

Both girls snigger and smile into their cigarettes, opinions confirmed.

‘Catherine?’ Charlie shouts from the kitchen. ‘What am I doing with these courgettes?’

Catherine sighs and stubbs our her cigarette, before walking back into the kitchen, leaving Y/N with Ben.

Ben was the only member of the group who wasn’t part of the original university crew. He had first come to their August break 5 years ago; Dom’s out of work actor flatmate from London who was going through a bad breakup and was in dire need of wine, company and good food. No one else had joined the group before or since, but Ben had slotted in perfectly, and remained a permanent fixture. He was undoubtedly one of Y/N favourite members of the group; down to earth, thoughtful, but with a cruel sense of humour which complemented Y/N’s well. The two could spend hours snorting with laughter at jokes their friends failed to understand.

‘Mate we need to have a SERIOUS chat about your last year’ Y/N said, turning to Ben. ‘We haven’t caught up properly since before Christmas, and you’ve been to the Oscars since then for god’s sake! What was it like?’

Ben snorts into his wine. ‘I’m sorry to disappoint but it was actually very underwhelming. Fucking long and you can’t go out for food or a cigarette’.

‘That is so disappointing. I’ve been rehearing my Oscar acceptance speech since I was at least 10 with a shampoo bottle- don’t tell me it’s not all what it’s cracked up to be’ Y/N pouted.

Ben laughed. ‘What on earth are you winning this Oscar for? Have you switched careers while I was in LA?’

‘Best Documentary’. Y/A answers firmly and quickly. ‘An expose of a corrupt politician where I go undercover as his campaign manager whilst hooked up to a wire. Critics would praise my bravery and unique take on the issue’. She grinned at Ben, who is laughing at her.

‘Dan really doesn’t know what he’s missing’ Ben laughed.

The smile fades off Y/N’s face. Ben immediately realises his mistake and tries to change the subject, but it’s too late.

‘I’m sorry Y/N I shouldn’t have said anything. It’s none of my business. I just... he’s... you deserve better’ he finishes faintly.

‘Dinner!’ Comes a shout from the kitchen, before Y/N is able to reply.

————

Two hours and several glasses of wine later, Y/N finally had finally forgotten about Dan for the moment. She was warm, well fed, tipsy and in good company.

‘And that’ Misha shouts, voice confident with the gin he’s been drinking since lunchtime, ‘is how I ended up as Robert Mugabe’s private pilot’

Everyone around the table roars with laughter. Y/N catches the eye of Ben who is sitting across her on the table. Y/N looks away quickly. She doesn’t want Ben to think she’s staring at him- but it’s hard not to when you’re sat opposite someone as ridiculously pretty as him. Instead she reaches for the wine bottle to refill her glass. When she next looks up, however, she swears she catches Ben quickly looking away from her. She shakes her head slightly to clear it of the wine fog that’s descended on her.

Y/N catches sight of her reflection in the back of her wine glass. Of course Ben wasn’t staring at her. Her curly hair was all over the place after the day’s travel, and her make up had faded and smudged under eyes. Whilst far from unattractive, she’s no where near as polished as the skin thin models he was undoubtedly fucking over in LA. And anyway, she had Dan to think of.

Brushing the thought from her mind, Y/N turned to Cleo who was sat next to her and joined in the conversation she and Charlie were engaged in. Out of the corner of her eye though, she kept Ben in her peripheral vision.

—————

‘Y/N I’ve got a banger lined up for you in a second’ said Dominic with a cheeky grin. He was controlling the music they are listening to in the living room, which they’ve retreated to now dinner had been cleared away.

‘Oh no, what have you got lined up? Cleo moaned.

‘It’s either Baseline Junkie or Rocky Racoon if it’s for Y/N’ Charlie said laughing.

Hearing this, Y/N sat up in her chair, which she had previously been slumped in, letting the conversation wash over her, content but tired by the days events.

~ Hey turn the base off, turn the base off

Big dirty stinking base, dirty stinking base ~

Y/N leaps out of her chair. The group collectively moans and laughs as they watch Y/N sing and dance along to the song- completely out of rhythm but with a huge smile over her face.

She turns to each member of the group in turn, signing a line of the song to them. As she reaches Ben, she realises he is recording her sing, grinning into his camera. Slightly taken aback for a moment at the fact that this would undoubtedly be posted to his million + followers on instragram, instead of stopping, Y/N redoubles her efforts at performing the song into his camera.

As the song comes to an end, she bows into his camera as a round of applause rings out.

She suspects she’ll regret that in the morning

Chapter 2 now out!

————-

#ben hardy #ben hardy smutt #ben hardy imagines #ben hardy x reader

[bloodys44]

Silence and Cigarette Smoke

-Original story and bonus content found here! ↓↓↓↓

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13289933/1/Silence-and-Cigarette-Smoke

Prolog pt. 2 - Meeting The Boy Who Smokes

785

Lucy's POV ~

When Lucy awoke for the second time, reality was a cold plunge from the warmth she had previously been enveloped in. The scorching heat that dripped off her skin was replaced with cold stark hospital sheets, folded and constricting over her delicate frame. The smell of antiseptic swarming her nose, fogging her senses. Her own limbs felt foreign to her body, weighted and disconnected. She gave her head a slight shake, attempting to put her thoughts into a coherent line before pushing her eyes to open. Fluttering lashes peeled back to reveal blistering white, bright and gleaming. She was in a hospital room of sorts. The area spacious yet cluttered, stacked with recognizable medical tools and equipment. Three more beds lined the wall to her left, neatly folded green sheets perched at their heads. Their equipped side table decorated with delicate assortments of flowers. To her right, a grand mosaic styled window, allowing rays of warmth to comfort her chilled skin. Most of her vision, however, was obstructed by a large pearlized sheet, hung limply on ceiling hooks. A rather hideous pattern embroidered over the fabric. Lucy let out a slight huff as she shifted her weight, squirming to peer around the offending curtain. Her eyes blowing wide when her strained neck allowed her to peer over the hem. Across from her were two figures, seemingly unknowing of her newfound consciousness. A woman, with her back turned towards her, hips swaying as she tended to the man perched on the gleaming countertop to her front. Her hands precise and trained as they cleaned and stitched his open wounds. The man, she recognized to be her saviour from the previous night. He looked relaxed, leaning his head against the tiled wall with his eyes closed. Even during her state of haze the evening prior she had thought he was beautiful, but looking at him now she was almost breathless. The mid-morning sun casting over him like a golden aura. The rich tan of his skin stretched over the spance of his bare chest. Pink tendrils crowned his scull obnoxiously, demanding some of her attention. His ears were lined with multiple gold piercings, a few hoops and studs littered across the cartilage in uneven numbers. The first and second holes at the bottom of his lobe matched, decorated with small golden dragon heads and smaller diamond studs respectively. Lucy had never seen a man like him before, pieced together so flawlessly. His features so strong and pronounced one would never be able to forget his face.

"You've really done a number on yourself this time Natsu." The woman finally spoke, her voice sweet, dripping with honey. She pulled away a step, her hands continuing to hover slightly over his chest. "Mira's going to pull such a fuss that you stitched some of these yourself, your handiwork is atrocious."

"Damn, and here I thought I'd be coming home to compliments." Natsu's face stretched into a wicked smirk as he spoke, an amusingly playful tone pouring from his throat. His eyes stretched open slowly, revealing deep rich obsidian. "Least I made it home in one piece."

The woman snorted, placing her hands on her hip."I suppose that could be considered an accomplishment for you." She shook her head lightly, stepping away from him to rummage through drawers. "What am I supposed to do when you come home in a multitude of pieces? I won't even know where to start."

This time Natsu snorted, leaning forward to remove his head from it's resting place. His long arm swung forward to loop around the woman's neck, stringing her into him with a noticeable force. "Ah Lissana, you worry too much. I'll always make it home to you." The woman giggled slightly, pushing up against his arm in a playful manner.

It was sweet really, their out front care for one another. Lucy couldn't help but feel she was spying, a dirty feeling pooling in the depths of her stomach. She leaned back slowly, only to freeze when her elbow connected with a glass that was apparently on her side table. In a swift movement, she tried to capture the glass between her fingertips before it shattered with an obnoxious clash. She most definitely had the other attention now. Nervously she glanced up, meeting their fixated gaze. They both looked a little stunned, eyes wide and gawking at her. "Oh, I wasn't expecting you to be awake so soon." The woman mused, tossing her head slightly to remove short tendrils of white from her view. She stepped away from Natsu, brushing his arm off her shoulder. She was a rather petite woman with a dainty exterior to match. Pale skin complimenting the blunt white locks that hugged at the edges of her skull. Her features were soft, melting into her face with refined opulence. And god, the most demanding electric blue eyes Lucy had ever seen. She looked almost whimsical, gliding across the tiles beneath her. Dressed in a light blue tunic that fell slightly past her full hips, a snowy cloak trailing over her shoulders. Pure crystallized beauty radiating off her skin. An unmatched goddess donated by the clouds themselves.

"W-who are you?" Lucy croaked, wincing at the crack that travelled down her throat. The uncertainty in her voice almost thick enough to peel away. The woman glanced up quickly, batting dark lashes that curled upwards towards her brow.

"My name's Lissana." She exhaled sweetly. "And yours?" Lucy simply shook her head, eyes never leaving their fixture on the woman. The panic thrumming through her blood was etching its way into her skin. She had enough people searching for her as it was, and with no actual knowledge about her current position, cautiousness was something she couldn't afford to overstep. "I suppose that's fair." She sighed in response. "Natsu-san said those awful royal guardsmen were giving you a fairly rough time." She tossed her head upwards softly, granting Lucy a kind smile. "I'm sorry you had to go through that... Those men really are despicable, taking advantage of a lady like that." Lucy nodded slowly, allowing her eyes to bounce back towards Natsu. He was staring burn holes into her skull. His expression firm and curious. She wanted to dive into his mind, unravel his thoughts and learn the story of the god-like man presented before her. She couldn't understand the magnetic pull towards him, why he stood out so much against the world. Her head was still throbbing and trying to focus on the persistent questions that were pouring from Lissana was such a hassle when all she wanted was to look at him. Lucy tried to refocus her mind, she looked back towards Lissana who gave her a sad smile when she realized Lucy hadn't been listening to any of her medical history questions. "Not to fret," She sputtered, taking a seat at the foot of the bed. "Let's just start with how you're feeling?"

Lucy turned to her leg, attempting to roll the limb under the restricting sheets. It screamed at her, a pulsing shot knawing at her nerve endings. The pain in her leg was understandable, the spasm a constant reminder of her miss-step the previous evening. But what truly caught her off guard was her wrist. The revolting snap still fresh against her eardrums. And yet, it was completely fine. A simple bandage sealed her skin away from the light of day, but the immediate pain had subsided, leaving an ignorable dull ache. She held her arm up in front of her, examining her joint with concentration as she unwove the silky fabric binding it. She looked back at Lissana, who was staring patiently with a hopeful grin. "How long have I been asleep for?" She questioned instead of granting an answer. The miraculous healing of her wrist throbbing at the back of her mind.

"Only for a few hours actually, it's fairly surprising considering that forceful head injury you endured. Not to mention the amount of smoke you inhaled." A look of confusion overtook Lucy's features, her eyes darting downwards to her wrist. She lifted her limb softly, holding it out towards the snowy woman while gesturing towards it with a slight nod. Lissana smiled weakly, opening her mouth to answer before a loud screech wafted from the hallway.

"ARE YOU FUCKING INSANE NATSU!?"

Lucy perked up instantly, keening onto the words that slipped through the gap of the doorframe. Lissana looked startled, gripping the edge of the bed while muttering under her breath. "WHY WOULD YOU BRING AN UN-REGISTERED MAGE HERE?!" The large wooden door that capped the far end of the room flung open, creaking hinges echoing down the hall. She found herself almost frustrated by the fact that everybody here seemed to be uncharacteristically good looking. The new figure rolling in on a chilled breeze. He was tall, lean and sculpted, the muscles rippling down his arms and over the plane of his stomach. Everything on show from his lack of shirt. Dark jeans strung casually over his defined hips by a flimsy belt, a black chain complete with a jewelled cross hung in the same manner around his pale neck. A structured 'V' definition peaking from above the metal clasp of his buckle. His face carried a grim but soothing expression. As if he was sweet yet unapproachable at the same time. A deep scar split the skin between his brow bone and the black hair crowning his head. He looked a little dishevelled, stunned at the three pairs of eyes now focusing solely on him.

"What was I supposed to do? Just leave her there with those filthy bastards to burn in the forest?! Fuck off you over masculated ice cube tray." Natsu retorted back, sliding himself off the counter.

"YOU BURNT DOWN A FOREST?!"

Natsu raised his brow slowly, moving to grab his previously discarded sweater off the far chair. "Not the whole forest dumbass, just most of section 8." He slid the black crew-styled sweater over his head, sliding it down his ridged abdomen mindful of his new stitches. "Would ya quit yelling, you're gonna wake the whole guild."

"The magic council's going to string you up alive when they hear about this." Natsu shrugged at the man, apparently unfazed at the mention of a council Lucy didn't even know existed. So they were all mages? It was strange, the way they spoke so openly about magic. It, being a taboo topic in their modern culture.

"I-I'm sorry... Did you say magic council?" Lucy half-whispered, curiosity getting the better of her. The two men almost jumped at her words, as if they were so focused on one another they forgot about the other woman in the room.

"Wait, is this her?" The second man muttered under his breath, casting a weary wide-eyed glance at Natsu who nodded casually. "Uh... Good morning?" He tried, looking slightly disgruntled about how he was supposed to approach the situation. Lucy gave him a confused expression which only seemed to make the newcomer more uncomfortable. "My name's Gray, and this," He swung his arm back to point beside him. "Is Natsu." She nodded slowly, her confused expression still on display. Gray looked uneasy, shifting his weight to his other foot. It was odd, his lack of confidence in the current situation, considering his brash reaction a few moments ago. He ran pale fingers through his dark locks slowly, eyeing her from head to foot. It was almost like he was sizing her up, seeing if she would leap out and bite him.

"God, you really have a way with a woman." Natsu mocked in a teasing manner. She almost had to hold back her own giggle, Lissana doing the same off to her right. Gray scowled at Natsu, deep cold eyes a contrast to the slight flush in his cheeks.

"It's not that it's just the matter of.." He paused, trying to string together a coherent sentence to ask her.

"I think brain freeze is trying to ask what type of user you are." Natsu finished, a creamy laugh following his words. Gray let out an exasperated sigh, nodding slowly in defeat.

She raised a brow, confusion painting her face. Lissana had now stopped her busy-work, listening intently with a pointed expression. Lucy felt like shrinking under all the scrutiny. It wasn't that she wasn't used to all the attention, just that their gaze was firm, boiling her blood with the intensity. Her lower lip began to tremble, biting it being the only way to stop its quiver. If these people knew of her enchanted blood already she was screwed. If these people really weren't mages, her beheading would be scheduled before the days light slipped past the horizon line. The laws of the land were firm, and those who opposed them were treated just as poorly as the ones born against them. She pulled her lip into her mouth harshly, sucking in a shaky breath and tried to muster her most confident expression. "I'm not a witch." She deadpanned, deciding blatant denial would probably serve her the best in this situation. "Why would you accuse me of such treason before you even knew my name?"

Natsu's face contorted, his pupils blown wide for emphasis. A scowl blooming over his expressive features. "What are you talking about? I knew you were a witch from the second I saw you." He leaned in closer, studying her with exact precision. Lucy's breath caught into her throat, letting her lip fall from between her teeth with a careful whimper. "Drop the act, I hate when people play dumb with me." The temperature spiked in the room, like his onyx gaze was melting her organs into liquid fire. He was so intense, his presence alone petrifying when it needed to be.

How could he have known? She hadn't used her magic in years, let alone in front of this man. She was very particular about when she would let the enchantment rise to the surface of her skin, fairly certain that only her parents had ever witnessed it. And after her father's reaction, she wasn't too keen on letting a random stranger in on the secret. "H-how could you tell?" Natsu's expression faltered for a mere second before a smirk ebbed its way to his lips. Violently pointed canines peeking past the tan flesh.

"I could practically smell it on you from the forest line. Royal blood tends to reak." His smirk grew wildly, giving her an open few of the rest of his teeth. Placed perfectly with accurate precision and gleaming white. She could have sworn she witnessed a stream of smoke sneak past his teeth. His statement snagged the attention of everyone in the room, all their jaws hanging open slightly. Natsu didn't seem to notice the others, entertained completely by the flustered mess he had created out of the blonde. She was baffled. In a matter of two minutes, this man had ripped apart her most guarded secrets. Ones that she had dedicated the last three years of her life protecting. "Judging by your reaction I would even go as far as guessing that you just might be our one and only lost princess." He leaned in closer, gaging her reaction. His ridiculous smirk never leaving his quirked lips. This time she was certain of the smoke, a deep gray whisp forcing past his lips. "So I'll ask once more, what type of user are you?" His voice had dropped at least three octaves, the latter of the sentence losing the playfulness he had begun to pick up.

"Natsu, stop. You're scaring her." Lissana moved forward, placing a delicate hand over his rough shoulders. She was eyeing Lucy tenderly, the glimmer of her irises silently asking if she was alright. Natsu didn't retreat, keeping his stance firm as he loomed over the edge of her mattress. if Lucy thought her blood had been pushed to boiling under their original gaze, she figured at this point she was utterly evaporating.

"I'm n-not sure."

The room temperature spiked fiercely. Natsu's face contorting as his patience was ground down. Gray stepped forward, looking at her rather unpleasantly. "Look, I understand this is probably a lot to take in just after you woke up. I know you didn't ask for any of this, but because of this morons antics," He shoved his finger towards Natsu's chest from across the bed frame, earning a displeased scoff. "You ended up here. We really don't mean you any harm and we promise to help keep you safe if your willing to work with us. So please, just answer his question." Lucy nodded before tossing her head down, letting the bedsheets take up her vision. Gray certainly was kinder with his words, and she did feel a little less uncomfortable now. But the panic at the back of her throat had yet to subside completely.

"I'm sorry... I really don't know." She exhaled her words carefully. "I have almost no knowledge of magic, or how any of it works." She could feel the redness of her cheeks overtaking the rest of her face and crawling down her neck to splay over her chest. The embarrassment of her lack of skill taking over. "Really the most I can do is make my hands glow a little bit."

"Can you show us?" This time when Natsu spoke, his voice was calm. Soothing over her worry like a milky glaze. She tossed her head forward again, wincing at the slight throb just above her nose. His eyes were soft and endearing as he peered forward, waiting patiently for her to make her move. The contrast of his quickly changing moods almost giving her whiplash. She closed her eyes in focus, inhaling harshly as she forced all the heat in her chest to the tips of her fingers. A gentle hue of flaxen light coating over her palms and down her fingertips. She ripped her eyelids open when a forceful hand connected with hers. Natsu eagerly pulling them towards himself.

"No way..." He muttered, his words slipping out under his hot breath. The sultriness drizzling over her fingers and causing her light to spark recklessly before going out completely. He tossed his head to the side, catching Gray's stare. "Do you really think we found one?" Gray shrugged his shoulders slowly, eyes darting back towards Lucy's hands. She exhaled shakily, pushing her lips apart to question the two men, only to be caught off guard by the oak door swinging against its hinges violently.

"You," The newcomer lashed, striking a finger in Natsu's direction. "Have a hell of a lot of explaining to do."

Natsu's POV ~

Natsu dropped Lucy's hand instantly, casting his attention to the figures in the doorframe. It appeared their Guild Master had returned from his trip unexpectedly early. And if the annoying expression plastered over his features was anything to go by, he wasn't too pleased by his own extravagant entrance. One might think after years of burning various things into pillars of ash, that people would get used to it. Sadly the reaction stayed relatively the same."So, what have you got to say for yourself?" Their headmaster practically spat, waving a stack of folded envelopes above his head dramatically. His small exterior greatly decreasing the intimidating aura he was obviously going for. The crevasses of his ever defining wrinkles scrunching as he contorted his face further. "You've really done a number this time Natsu. The council is furious with me for letting you galavant around so carelessly!" His voice was rough, the old man almost shaking with intensity. Natsu let a puff of smoke roll of his lips, deciding to focus instead on the figure beside their Master.

"I think what he means to say is good morning." The words rich on her tongue as they slipped past pearlized teeth. A soft chuckle capping her speech. Mirajane. A woman of utter sophistication. The elder sister of Lissana Strause, their resemblance uncanny as they stood across from one another. Her complexion held the same pale exterior but with such a rosy undertone one might believe she bathed only in the finest rosewater. Unlike her sister, her snowy locks fell in long relaxed curls that billowed at the extreme curve of her hips. She exhaled a sweet harmony over the gloss of her full pink lips. Working them into an amused pout while she raised her remaining hand to wrap her cinched waist. A dress coloured of deep coral donned her figure, the neckline deep, complimenting the dip of her defined collar bones. Her every movement felt calculated, meticulous even. Her only goal to radiate complete and utter perfection. She released her hold on the Headmaster's shoulder with a slight pop of her wrist, sweeping forward across the tiles to circle around Natsu. A glorious smile overtaking her pout as she pinched his cheeks. "It's so good to see you back, you've been gone an awful lot lately." Natsu jerked his head backward ungracefully, detaching the abused flesh of his cheeks from her slender fingertips. "You look older, more filled out even." She tapped his chest pointedly, smirking up towards him. "And you need to shave."

Natsu shifted his weight to his other foot, rubbing the underside of his jaw self-consciously. "Good to see you too Mira." He utterly playfully. She had easily become one of his favourite people over the years, kindness basically radiated out of her pores. Her motherly figurative a welcoming beam of light over his shambled life. Although he still found it rather perplexing that she was engaged to one of the most hard-headed men he had ever met. His daunting personality alone was 'shock' enough. "How's Laxus been?"

"Well enough I suppose." She hummed gently. "I'm sure you can ask him for yourself when he catches up to you later. I've already asked him to have a word or two with you." Natsu raised his brow suspiciously as Mira crossed her delicate arms across her ample chest. "I mean seriously Natsu, gone for months and without letting a single person know you were even leaving. How irresponsible of you. Had me in such a worry. You know what they do to us if we're caught out there." She flicked her wrist softly, waving it in the air in front of her. "Not to mention you seem to be the least inconspicuous out of all of us. We've been tracking damage reports all over the content, trying to pin down your location."

"Ah Mira, you worry too much." He chided, giving her a wild smirk. "Lissana already gave me the same lecture."

"Wait until you see the mess of stitching he's done to his chest." She piped in for good measure, to which Natsu couldn't help but roll his eyes.

Mira shook her head, mid scoff. "How could you be so reckless? That fire was far to close to home. Think of all the attention you've drawn this way. Elfman was on watch last night, said he spent the whole shift diverting royal guardsmen away from our enchantment line." It was rare to see Mira look anything but overwhelmingly cheerful. The worried expression plastered over face felt foreign and wrong. He really did feel guilty for causing such a commotion, but he stood by his actions. He truly believed he did the right thing.

"Not to mention you've breached all of our safety restrictions by bringing an unregistered here." Lucy jumped slightly, realizing that the short man's attentive gaze was now pointed in her direction. Mira shot the man an aggravated look at his aggressive words. Typically preferring to keep a calm mind about things.

"When I saw what those bastard guardsmen were doing to her, taking advantage of her like that, I guess I kinda lost my temper." Natsu shrugged, brushing the situation off. "Anyway, when I went to go check if she was alright she kinda just grabbed on to me. And I could have sworn her hand was glowing gold, I just got excited that maybe I found a real celestial. I mean her blood is definitely that of royals, so I brought her back with me." He cast his eyes toward the very flustered and confused looking blonde, his lips curling into his famous smirk. "And get this Gramps, I just got her to do it again."

The Headmaster raised a brow, folding his arms across his chest. "Out of all the excuses to choose from, you pick the most outlandish and expect me to believe you?"

"Master, I think he's really telling the truth. I just saw her do it myself." Lissana spoke up, moving to join the circle of people around Lucy's bed. "I really don't believe she holds any threat over us. She hasn't even been taught how to control her energy." She raised her pale fingers to cup the underside of Natsu's jaw, her frame continuing to face the older man. "I know his actions may have seemed uncalled for, but above it all, he did save a life. Not to mention the fact that Freed's barrier charm has never been stronger. Attention to the area or not, I don't believe they'd be able to actually find us here." She giggled, crouching down to match his shorter height. "I think you should let her stay. If she really is a celestial, we could help unlock her potential. Plus, I don't believe she has anywhere else to go. Would you really kick a child to the street?" She gestured towards Lucy, who (if possible) looked more confused than before.

"Ah, Lissana, ever fateful with bailouts." The Headmaster snorted, crossing his arms roughly. She smiled genuinely, nodding her head slightly before standing again. He turned to face the recovering blonde, raising a brow in curiosity. "I suppose I can deal with Natsu's destructive behaviour later. For now, let's start with your name?"

Natsu once again let his sightline fall to her, the pretty blonde woman wearing a perplexed expression. She was easily one of the most stunning women he'd ever come across, entrancing him from the second she fell in his peripheral. The way she was sitting, sprawled in the tall grass while those vile men encircled her. Moonlight basking over the expanse of her creamy skin. Expression firm even in her bleak situation. The way she had clung to his jaw when he finally approached her. Chocolate irises reflecting the golden light of his flames. Chest heaving, searching for lost breath. Her body, so delicate against his rough arms. When she had called him an angel in her disorientated state, it did more than stroke his ego lightly. And even now, wrapped up in a starch hospital gown, a grayish bruise dusted over the slope of her elegant nose. Blonde tendrils dancings over the small of her back in effortless curls. Shorter strands framing the heart shape of her face and dipping under the graceful curve of her chin. The way her words poured like thick cream from her slender top lip, pooling over the plumpness of her bottom one. "Lucy." Fitting, he almost snorted. Of course, she would have a beautiful name to accompany her opulent exterior. "It's Lucy Heartfilia." She was nervous, quivering slightly under the scrutiny.

"A Heartfilia? Looks like I guessed right then." Natsu snickered, raising his arms to cross behind his head. Lucy nodded, casting her eyes back towards the sheets.

"I thought all the Hearfilia women had passed?" Their Headmaster questioned. "Seem's only yesterday the Queen was executed before the public."

Lucy flinched, her fingers toying with one another absentmindedly. "S-she helped me run away. I think my father was embarrassed he wasn't able to find me. So he announced that my own execution would be private." She looked up, sad eyes locking with the old man who nodded in return.

"How did you end up in the forest?"

"Somebody must have recognized me while I was travelling through Magnolia." She mumbled, trying to hide the twitch of her lower lip. "The local guardsmen chased me from town." Their Master seemed satisfied enough with her answer, moving to the end of her bed before hopping up to perch on the fabric.

"So you knew nothing of what was located in this forest before your arrival?" He questioned, his tone was light while his eyes were serious. Lucy shook her head, golden locks bouncing with every sway. "I suppose that means our cover has yet to be blown." He nodded in approval before shifting his arm forward, offering his hand towards the young woman. Natsu winced slightly. This was their Master's final test to gauge if she was a threat or not, and it most certainly wasn't a pleasant one. At least in his case, it hadn't been. Headmaster Makarov Dreyar was an exceptional man, with abilities unmatched by the common mage. He had spent years of his life dedicated towards the magical arts, earning the title of Wizard Saint early on in life. One of his wondrous abilities was that of mind searching. Rare in its own right, giving the caster access to the memories of their chosen victim. A complete unlocking of one's mind. Or in Natsu's opinion, a complete invasion of one's most sacred and darkest memories. Forcing the victim to relive them while he searched. He turned away when he heard the breathy gasp escape her lips. Closing his eyes against the dull sapphire glow. When he finally peeled them open again, Lucy was sitting with a hurt expression over her features, clutching her previously extended hand against her chest. Neither of them spoke for a moment, allowing her to catch her breath before moving on. Natsu knew their Master would never utter a word about another's memories, but the thought of him having all this knowledge of someone was still rattling to him, despite the ample trust he had for the man.

"I'm sorry about that." Makarov apologized gently, tapping the blanket cast over her uninjured leg. "It's vital I dismiss any doubt of your character before allowing you access to my home and family." Lucy nodded slowly, her puzzled expression returning. Natsu let out a shaky breath, relief pooling in the pit of his stomach at her acceptance. "This place," The old man gestured around, "Is sector three's mage compound, code dubbed Fairy Tail. A completely self-sufficient guild created for the safety of mages like us." He smiled, the grin almost childlike against his aged exterior. "It was founded many years ago as a resource for mages to find work and housing and continues to provide that to this day. After the announcement of criminalization against those with magic blood, Fairy Tail, along with other guilds on the continent created a hidden network to aid witches and wizards in their daily life."

"That's amazing," Lucy whispered breathily. Natsu was scanning her again. His lips twitching into a smirk as he watched the light begin to slip back into her eyes. "Nobody ever speaks of it anymore, but I just knew there must have been a sanctuary of sorts for the enchanted." She was grinning now, a sheepish curl overtaking her mouth. "I knew my father would never be able to wipe magic away completely, it's far too strong for the likes of him."

Makarov nodded, hiding his own smirk behind the white mustache coating his top lip. "I am Headmaster Makarov, the keeper of this guild. I dedicate my life to the grounds and those who live here. In my opinion, there is no safer place for a mage to be in today's world."

"It's really more of a fact than opinion," Gray added, crossing his arms. "If you have any life ambition as a mage, a guild is where you want to be."

"And as a mage in need, I offer with complete sincerity a place of residence for you. There is no pressure in my offering, only available aid. We can train you here, help you to develop your skills in all things including magic. You can work for your keep as the other residents do, through listed quests and job postings as well as more clerical jobs around the base. I can offer you safety if you agree to live by the code and rules of our guild." The headmaster spoke evenly, keeping his attention on the blonde. Her excitement seemingly growing with his every added word. "It's up to you, child."

Lucy was beaming, glistening straight teeth on show for the group. "This really is like a dream." She hummed. "I think I would be insane to decline such an offer."

Makarov nodded approvingly. "Well Miss Lucy, on behalf of our guild I would like to offer you a warm welcome, as well as an apology for the situation that brought you to us. I hope you will come to love it here just as I do." He slid off the edge of the bed, now making his way towards the door. "For now child, you should rest. Come tomorrow morning we can see about housing arrangments for you." He peered over his shoulder at her, granting a kind smile, then turned towards Natsu. "And you," he spoke sternly, pointing a finger at his chest. "Come to my office, I believe we still have much to discuss about your recklessness.

"And I am most certainly will be having a look at those stitches Natsu. Let's not add more than we must to that collection of scars." Mira scolded firmly. Natsu let out a smoky huff before following the older man out the door. Only sparing a single glance back towards Lucy before turning down the hall.

Lucy's POV ~

Everyone continued to file out of the room after Natsu, leaving her alone with an overly beaming Lissana. "I just know you'll love it here. Fairy Tail has become a home for so many others like you, I have no doubt you'll fit in." She hummed, her glorious smile never leaving her lips. Lucy nodded happily, her own smile crawling across her lips innocently.

"Is everybody here proficient in magic?"

"Almost all the current members are yes, but others were like you when they were recruited." A dreamy look overtook her blue orbs as she seated herself at the foot of the mirroring bed. "If I remember correctly, even Natsu-san struggled to make sparks when Gildarts came across him." She let out a breathy giggle. "And look at the powerhouse he's become! I'm sure you'll progress quickly enough."

"Did he really burn an entire section of forest away?" Lucy couldn't help herself from prying about the boy, still overly curious about everything he had to offer. "How did he manage that?"

Lissana snorted, rolling her shoulders back carefully "One does not simply explain how Natsu manages to do half the things he does." She huffed, tossing her bangs with a flick of her neck. "Although, as disastrous as his methods seem to be, he always manages to save those who need saving." She was smiling again, a goofy-looking grin plastered over her lips. She stood slowly, turning to dig through a drawer in the desk across from the bed. "He comes across a little brash sometimes, but I promise you he's rather amazing."Lucy relaxed lower into the bedsheets, deciding that the woman ahead of her was just blatantly that nice. Maybe she really would be safe and hidden here. The thought was charming, having a solid place to stand on for a while. Even the clean sheets of the infirmary a considerable upgrade from the cheap rooms she had been renting.

"He saved me too, ya know. A long time ago, when we were young and foolish." Lissana spun on her heel gracefully, leaning against the worn wooden siding of the desk. Her cloak rippling around her legs with pure grace. "I owe him everything." Her lips curled upwards slightly, smiling at the ground as if it would respond to her sincerity. It was almost endearing, hearing her speak so highly of somebody. "It really isn't that terrible being indebted to somebody like him." She was beaming at the floor foolishly now and this time it was Lucy's turn to snort, amused at how this woman was so clearly drooling over Natsu. Though she could hardly blame her, he had been astronomically beautiful. Even the gods seemed uncomparable. She nodded slowly, returning Lissana's warm gaze.

"Now," Lucy spoke softly, trying to regain her confidence. "Can you tell me what a celestial is?"

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Hope you enjoyed this one :) Let me know what you think!

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[thejamesoldier]

A Single Frayed Rope

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Chapter 2 

A/N: Hey guys! Sorry for the long gag between updates! Should have some marvel stuff updated next!

Chapter 3 - Horseshoe Overlook I

Horseshoe Overlook ~ May 1899

The tree Kieran and you are tied to feels like a cheese grater against your back.

Every time you flinch or breathe too heavily the bark chafes against you and its agony. You haven't sat or laid down since the mountain cabins and only a lady who you have learned is called Mary-Beth comes to feed Keiran and you small rips of stale bread or sips of water regularly. She does it quickly and when the least amount of people are watching, but you're grateful for it. It's the first display of genuine kindness you've been shown since...traveling. Time traveling.

Yeah you still haven't come to terms with that.

Most of the camp has come by to take stock of the two of you, some to antagonize and demean while others offer small tokens of food or coffee if you both are looking particularly pitiful that day. Some of the gang have beaten Kieran and to your horror beat you too, some have dropped food just out of your reach, tossed their still lit cigarette buds at your faces, talked to you like you were the worst scum of the earth. You had never been in a situation where nobody...cared, nobody cared what was done to you and everybody relished in your discomfort and pain. These people were cruel, the kind of cruel you read about in history books and news headlines and watched in movies. The kind of cruel you believed you'd never have to experience like your ancestors did.  

"Mercy! Please!" Kieran moans to a passerby, his voice a racket in the quiet foggy morning and effectively wrenching you from your thoughts.

You try to tamper down the brittleness threatening to shatter your chest and allow your senses to distract you from your fear. The abuse has become so regular you eventually reached a point where you began trying to anticipate their cruelty, desperately trying to find a pattern to it. And in doing so you unintentionally became an expert on these people. At first you started discreetly observing how they treat each other, how each person does their chores, how they act when eating together or singing together. Then you learned each of their names and cataloged their habits, committing every little interaction and detail to memory. You have to know the enemy to defeat them, or in your case simply survive them. Apart from your rapt daily assessment of your captors, there's not much else for you to do other than suffer. Though you choose to do it silently unlike Kieran for you fear if you open your mouth god knows what will come out of it. Plus the second you allow yourself to truly indulge in your fears, is the moment you lose your ability to be present in any given situation and survive it.

The passerby Kieran is wailing to is a big heavy set man who you've guessed is the camp cook, or something like that. Pearson is what everyone calls him. He is always one of the first to wake, preparing a communal coffee pot which he sets by a fire pit that burns a couple paces in front of Kieran and your tree, and then sets to work on various chores like chopping up fresh game or tanning leather, before starting on a stew of some sort for dinner. The smells of food, actual hearty food, has been the worst torture thus far. You've shit and wet yourself more than you'd care to keep track of and it makes you wish for death more than wading through miles of hip deep snow did. You're constantly terrified your body will shut down without your consent too, rendering you unconscious and unprotected. You hadn't slept a whole week after you were first tied to the tree, and you've barely done so since. It's been about three weeks now.  

Pearson doesn't even look your way, much to Kieran's disappointment, and continues on with his routine deaf and blind like everyone else is to your pain. You don't know why Kieran's trying so hard. I mean yeah you want mercy too but from the welcome you've been given, you seriously doubt begging for scraps of kindness like Kieran is will give you much favor when they do eventually decide what to do with you. You want to think it couldn't hurt to try, but with these kind of people you figure compassion is a tall order to expect of them, let alone ask of them.

"When is this gonna end!" Kieran cries to no one in particular as he sags against the tree and hangs his head. His defeat you feel in the core of your being.

"Speak! Don't cry, boy." Someone barks suddenly, making you both jump at being addressed directly as it usually foreshadows bruises and split lips.

A figure appears out of the heavy morning fog like a menacing monster from a story book. Reality soothes your strained imagination when you recognize the man as Arthur as he bends down over the fire to pour himself a cup of coffee. A strange kind of relief twists in your gut -- at least it's not Bill. Bill had yet to take up on his promise to 'break you for his own' and 'make you squeal'.  

"Speak. About your gang." Arthur stands to his full height once he's done with the pot, walking lazily over to stand in front of the both of you with all the causal menace of a great predator.

Blowing gently on the hot beverage Arthur settles his weight in one hip before taking a measured sip from the steaming tin cup, his free hand adjusting his ammunition belt that hangs low on his hips. When he brings the cup away from his face and swallows with a soft hum of contentment, Kieran drops his head at the display and starts honest to god sobbing.

"I can't..." Kieran whimpers, his lungs working against the tightness in his throat.

"Boy," Arthur warns, violence coloring his eyes as he just stands in front of the both of you and sips. He knows Kieran and you are close to breaking, knows it and relishes in it.

Fucking bastard.

"Excuse me?"

Your heart jumps when you realize you had just said that out loud. Dread promptly drains all the blood from your face.

"Wanna say that again?" Arthur turns his full attention to you as Kieran heaves around tears that won't come because the both of you are too dehydrated.

Your first instinct is to cower, to submit, to survive, but there's something severe in the way Arthur makes you feel as he glares at you. A dare. A threat. And now that you've opened your mouth, the first time doing so since the mountains, you can't stop yourself from repeating with perfectly articulated diction,

"Fucking bastard."

"First time you've spoken since the mountains and that's what you choose to say? Aw that's not too smart. Not the language of a lady, is it?"

As you press your lips together your chin gives a violent quiver at the clear implication in his tone. Your eyes grow guarded and your fear swiftly resurfaces and makes itself known by twisting your gut into knots. Arthur locks you into a staring contest you can't escape from. Unfocused, directionless rage holds court in his eyes, looking like its lived there unchecked for some time -- grown rotten -- though the rest of his expression speaks to a more complex range of emotions you don't know him well enough to decode. Of all the people in the gang, Arthur you know the least about. He's a ghost. He's rarely in camp and when he is his stays are short. This makes Arthur and his actions impossible to predict. Which makes Arthur the most dangerous. What you are able to gather though besides the undercurrent of rage, is an unimaginable need to unleash said rage on anyone or anything. You refuse to be the excuse he needs so you shut up and just stare back, unsure of what you are attempting to prove or accomplish by not looking away. What you gain by facing all that rage.

"Woah, hold your horses," Comes a new voice as another monster emerges from the fog.

It's the man with curly black shoulder length hair, the one with the authority, the one that everyone seems to listen to without question. Dutch is his name. Your first impression of him pleading in that cabin in the mountains with the man you've remembered to be Hosea, contradicts the swaggering asshole he presents himself as to Kieran and you. Though he's a swaggering asshole to everyone but these people...this gang. His gang. You made sure to pick out the leaders and sort out the hierarchy first.  

Dutch saunters up to stand beside Arthur followed by that horrible wretch Bill.

"It seems the cat has got our friend here's tongues." Dutch continues in a colorful drawl, "I was thinking Mr. Williamson could have a word."

'The pleasure of breakin' you for my own is gonna be so much fun.'

You violently shove away the memory of Bill's promise before it shows on your face. You pretend you don't remember the fact that they took the metal cot from the mountain cabin with them, and that Bill is probably itching to stretch you out on it and torture you for information you didn't have.

"You ready to talk boy?" Bill snarls as he gets up in Kieran's face before turning his eye on you and giving you a toothy sneer, showing off all of his yellowing teeth, "What about you? You ready to share?"

"I told you mister," Kieran all but whimpers as his eyes jump between all three men with a desperation you are currently trying to swallow. Bill swings his attention away from you, "I told all of you. I don't know nothin' okay? Th-they ain't no friends of mine. I've just been ridin' with 'em for awhile --,"

"Horseshit!" Bill interrupts with a loud curse, causing you to flinch so harshly against the tree you slice one of your raw fingers on a peeling piece of bark. Arthur almost startles because of how badly you startled. He notes the steady stream of blood dripping down into the grass from your fingers tied behind your back. His eyebrows furrow. He says nothing. "You see we heard that part so how about you tell the truth."

Bill turns to you for an answer, receives none, then turns to Dutch.

"Dutch what do you want me to do?"

"Hurt them so the next time they open their mouths, it is to tell us what is goin' on!" Dutch nearly shouts, causing you to involuntarily shut your eyes and shake as your fear gets the better of you despite your efforts to be brave. They all pick up on your fear now, blatant as it is in the wake of such a threat of violence. "Ah who am I kiddin'," Dutch lowers his voice to almost a hush, tone growing oddly intimate as he pushes his face closer and closer to yours, "O'Driscolls won't open their mouths, unless to tell a lie."

There's a beat of silence as Dutch eyes you up, then Kieran -- determining how hard it'll be to break you.

"Screw it. Let's just have some fun!" Dutch turns to Bill and scissors his fingers, "Geld him."

"Oh yeah!" Bill whoops as he bounds off to get whatever torture instrument they have ready.

Dutch turns to you then as Kieran's panic rockets alongside yours, "Arthur,"

Arthur has been quiet this whole time, so you jolt when he adjusts his weight between his feet at being called upon. He's standing closer to you than you thought.

"If you'd be so kind," Dutch says as he holds his hand up in a clear gesture for Arthur to back hand you across the face. You can't even look at Arthur, at either of them as Kieran's wails fill your ears and your heartbeat suffocates the breath in your dry swollen throat. Your eyes close again and like when you were young, you somehow hope that if you can't see what is trying to harm you, then it can't see you either.

--

Arthur hesitates.

He hesitates too long and something shifts in Dutch's eyes then. It's small and Arthur doesn't notice because he can't pull his gaze away from the woman shivering in front of him. What kind of a man beats a cowering helpless woman, Arthur thinks to himself.

What kind of man would ask you to do that? A tiny voice deep in his mind furthers.

Arthur can feel Dutch scowling at his hesitation, though he remains silent until Bill returns with a pair of hot iron tongs. Dutch and Bill cajole the O'Driscoll boy about losing his balls and Dutch goes on about eunuchs in Rome or something, but Arthur can't do much else but watch the woman try to breathe. He hears it wheeze a little whenever she inhales and it makes something in his gut twist uncomfortably. Bill snapping the hot tongs inches from the boy's crotch catches Arthur's attention and he finds himself whiplashing back into the present, not realizing he'd been transported from it in the first place.

"You sick bastards! What do you want from me!" The O'Driscoll cries out as he squishes himself as far back against the tree as his bindings allow.

"Well, you are going to talk," Dutch says, his bravado restored as Arthur's attention returns to the present at his words, "The only question is now, or after we got these little fellers off?"

"Okay! Okay! Listen! I know where O'Driscoll's holed up and you're right, he don't like you any more than you like him. He's at Six Point Cabin, I'll take you there! Serious, I don't like him. I mean I like him even less than I like you -- no offense."

Dutch scoffs, "None taken."

He then puts a hand on Bill's arm, and Williamson lowers the tongs.

"Okay then partner," Arthur starts, "Why don't you take a few of us up there right now."

Arthur turns to Dutch and nods, "I got this Dutch. Should be fun!"

As he moves around Bill and begins to untie the boy, Bill says, "Well what about the whore?"

Arthur's fingers slip on the knot he'd been working on. He grunts his frustration and pulls his hunting knife out, cutting clean through the ropes in one deft swipe.

Dutch hums to himself, appraising the woman with something entirely wicked gleaming in his eye.

"Do what you want with her. She might know more... personal information on Colm than the boy. Women I have found are always harder to break, so don't go easy on her."

Bill cackles at that and starts to move towards the woman and Arthur can't --

"Dutch," Arthur hears himself interject, chest tight, "Lets leave her alone for now. Brute force ain't gon' work on this one anyway, I can feel it. She seems the smart silent type."

Arthur sees something foreign swirl in Dutch's irises, something he's never seen there before -- can't identify -- which is strange because he knows Dutch better than he knows himself, but its then that Arthur realizes he'd subconsciously moved to place himself between Williamson and the woman. Shuddering breaths sound quietly from behind him and it makes him clench his teeth.

"Plus," Arthur forces out of his tight jaw, "I think Williamson should come with me to shoot up the O'Driscoll's our friend here will be leadin' us to." Arthur nods his head at Bill, "Go grab Marston and tell him he's ridin' with us."

Bill looks to Dutch,

"Go with Arthur," Dutch says, "We'll leave the other O'Driscoll here to contemplate her options."

Arthur turns then, actively choosing to ignore the subtle complexity of what just happened, as he hauls the O'Driscoll boy along threatening him the entire short way to the hitching posts.

--

Across camp Hosea had been watching the whole exchange. His eyebrows dig low into his gaze when he catches the undecipherable look Dutch gives Arthur's back.

--

The second you're left alone, you feel exposed in a way you hadn't before. With Kieran gone you find your fear has tripled. There is no one to share the horror with, no one to exchange small whispered words of comfort in the middle of the night, no one to just be there beside you. It's just you, freshly re-tied to the tree, by yourself and vulnerable. It hits you then how truly alone you are, and you realize that you literally don't know anybody. Even if you escaped or were miraculously let go, you couldn't reach out to anyone not because there's no cell phones or any means of getting in touch with someone, but because no one you know has been born yet. You are alone in the world, alone like you've never been before. You have no one.

You have no one.

--

The punch of devastation lands swiftly against your chest. The feeling takes your breath away and despite all your success in not showing your true feelings thus far, your face crumples and your head, suddenly much too heavy to hold up, lowers to hang. And like a button was pressed your lungs heave dry sobs past your lips. You're so distracted with your sorrow you forget to stifle your noises.

"Miss?"

Your head shoots up and a painful gasp wrenches open your cinched airways.

"I'm sorry! I didn't mean to startle you."

It takes your eyes a moment to settle on the tiny figure before you. The sun has journeyed over the sky some since Arthur took Kieran, so evening shadows have begun casting themselves low along the ground. The young boy Jack's shadow stretches all the way to your feet. Your heart settles some from its frantic galloping when you take in the boy's face. Curiosity holds most of the real estate on his features at the moment and you try to soothe yourself as he prepares to talk.

"I was just wonderin' if you were alright?" Jack has his hands knotted together like he knows he's doing something he shouldn't be. You figure talking to the camp prisoner fell under things his mother Abigail would firmly disapprove of.

"I'm okay Jack, go back to your mother. She'll want you near since its getting darker." You manage to say after wrestling your heartbeat and breathing back to normal.

Jack scuffs the tip of his small worn shoe against the dirt, eyes down, head cocked a little as he thinks.

"I just heard you makin' sounds I make when I'm really sad," Your heart clenches at his innocence, at the free kindness of a child, "And I just wanted to tell you that I hope you feel better."

With that Jack quickly turns and scampers away -- only to run smack into Javier who happened to be walking by.

"Woah!" Javier exclaims as he trips over the small kid and Jack tumbles to his knees with a small 'oof', "Slow down Jack,"

Jack mumbles something to Javier you can't hear (you assume its an apology), before Javier helps him to his feet and watches as Jack sprints off in the direction of his mother. Javier looks after Jack for a moment before retracing the boy's initial direction and finding his eyes landing on you. Your heart stops and you immediately lower your gaze. Besides Arthur, Javier is the hardest to get a read on, the hardest to predict. Even towards his own gang members the man keeps people on their best behavior and at a distance. You feel him deciding whether or not to come over, a few throbbing beats go by then -- thank god -- you hear him walk away towards one of the main campfires where most of the camp is collected. Everyone is currently eating dinner and you're grateful the beginnings of a song is enough to coax the man away.

As you sag against the tree you can do nothing but hope for Kieran's return...if he returns at all.  

What if Arthur kills him? What if Bill or John kills him?

What if Kieran is set free or escapes and never comes back?

You're especially terrified of that. Of him choosing to leave you even though you wouldn't blame him if he did and would probably do the exact same if the situation were reversed. You know you're just being selfish and awful but you can't help it.

You have no one.  

"You're free!"

Your head jerks up at the sound of a familiar voice a few hours later and the loss of tension in the ropes holding you hostage. You don't have the ability to respond as your lungs decide to freeze solid in your chest while your mind works to digest his words. You near collapse as the meaning of them finally settles.

"Wha --," You start with your eyebrows low, chest tight, and scarcely believing what you're hearing.

"Just what do you think you're doin'?" Kieran and you both jump at Arthur's booming voice as he manifests out of the murky evening shadows to loom behind Kieran.

Kieran pivots, "I-I-I thought you said I was one of you now? I th-thought --,"

"I said you's apart of us now, not her."

"But I told you she ain't an O'Driscoll! I told you she --,"

"Just because she ain't an O'Driscoll don't mean she's not a spy." Dutch boasts as he exists his tent, approaching the situation with a very unfriendly look in his eye that does not bode well for you.

You shrink back against the tree, no matter how much the action hurts your back and savagely kills your hope.

"The second you're told you're allowed to live you try settin' our prisoner free? That ain't makin' me too happy boah," Arthur grits through his teeth at Kieran who is quickly backing away from you, arms thrown up in surrender.

"That's not what I meant!" Kieran rushes to explain as you stare up at Dutch who watches you cower before him, "I didn't mean no offense! Promise! I thought --,"

"Well it don't matter what you thought! You may be travelin' with us now but you is still an O'Driscoll, you still hold no respect or position in this gang let alone have the freedom to choose whether or not to release goddamn prisoners!"

Kieran stumbles on something as he'd been backing up from a slowly advancing Arthur, and he trips and falls. He scrambles to his knees and stays there.

"Please sir I didn't mean nothin' by it! I'm sorry!"

"What is it you want Miss?" Dutch drawls as he addresses you. Arthur turns his attention towards you at Dutch's words.

"What?" You whisper, not able to manage a stronger tone.

"What is it, that you want?" Dutch repeats with diction so sharp it could cut.

You know this is probably a trick question, but you're too scared and your mind is too scattered by panic to think of anything clever.

"I want to go home." You reply in hushed devastated defeat.

"And where is home exactly?"

You pause at this, unsure of what to say.

Ah yes I'm from the future and I don't know how to get back! I've time traveled you see and have no idea where I am, what year it is, or who the fuck you people are! Also time traveling is apparently a no shoes no shirt no pants kind of service and you loose any recent memories on top of it! I don't know where I was when I traveled, if I did anything specific or was with anyone when it happened. I remember everything up until the big black space in my memory! Very confusing I know, but if you'd be so kind as to not burn me alive for witchcraft and send me on my way that'd be great!  

"Where are you from?" Dutch demands again, moving closer to you and becoming more menacing as you hesitate.

"Up north mostly." Is the weak answer you end up going with.

"Where up north, mostly?" Dutch immediately furthers.

Your mind goes blank when Arthur moves closer to you, both men crowding you into a corner, pushing you back into the tree with each step towards you.

"Why won't you tell us where you are from?"

You silently apologize to your family and friends, but mostly to yourself as you finally...after all this suffering...despite your promises to fight...

Silence reigns, signaling your choice to give up. These people want to kill you, hurt you, have been wanting to finish what they started and you're done denying the inevitability of your situation. You're done.

You hear the click of the safety before you register the hollow barrel of a revolver Dutch points straight between your eyes. No reaction claims your body though, no emotion runs through your heart, no clever escape plan tries to desperately form in your mind...just emptiness and a hollowed out feeling you assume used to be your agony.

"I'll ask you one last time, where are you from?" Dutch pauses then adds, "And who do you work for? Is it the Pinkertons? You have a contract with them?"

"Who?" You find yourself breathing out on a weak exhale, unable to do anything else but stare through the barrel of the weapon aimed at you, past Dutch, and into the nothingness you would soon join.

"They say they'll pay a handsome sum if you bring us all in?!"

Your face smoothes out as Dutch becomes more impassioned. Here it comes.

"You workin' with the law?! You an agent from Blackwater?!"

"Dutch --," A new voice attempts to interrupt. The older man, Hosea, appears at Dutch's flank. His eyes alight with alarm.

"How much money they offerin' you?! They holdin' your secrets hostage?!"

You close your eyes. Any second now.

"Dutch!" Hosea yells, but Dutch remains undeterred.

"You apart of a network?! Huh?! Are there people you workin' with?! Do you have people?!"

"I..." The world crystallizes into glass around you, immortalizing the moment, "I have no one." You whisper, voice collapsing as your soul wrenches itself free with each breath, preparing to depart. "I have nothing. I am no one." In this time.

A feeling so volatile and destructive ignites in your chest then and it reminds you of dying stars. You fall to your knees.

--

Arthur feels violently uncomfortable as he watches the woman once again dissolve into misery, not even afraid anymore just...done. She's given up. To see someone let go like that makes Arthur cling to his desire to stay alive even more fiercely than he already does. The simple cosmic irony of giving up in a world where dying happens so easily anyway is wrong -- unnatural, it goes against everything Arthur knows.

Two graves. Ten dollars.

Arthur's chest seizes as his reality spins, no one should give up like that. But its not until Arthur sees the look on Hosea's face that the true severity of what they're doing to the woman sinks in. Arthur feels like a hole has just been punched straight through his chest, leaving a gaping gory mass of space where his heart should be as he realizes the look on Hosea's face is disgust.

Disgust.

And its aimed at Dutch.

An inhale forces itself past Arthur's lips and burns in his chest when Hosea steps in front of the woman, and slowly crouches down before her.

"Wha -- Hosea," Dutch attempts to explain, affronted and just as shocked as Arthur by the look he'd been given, "I had to get the truth out of her! You know how watched we are these days. It was for the safety of the gang! I had to do it for us!"

Arthur thinks that's a good reason, he'd do anything for the gang too even if the method didn't sit well with him and it cost him hours of sleep at night, but Hosea doesn't even bother to respond as he starts murmuring soft things to the shaking woman on the ground.

--

When you hear the safety click back on and Dutch smoothly holster his weapon, a surge of sensation overwhelms you. It feels like breaching the surf of a raging ocean, sound-sight-smell-touch-breath-life roaring at you from all sides. The high that comes after surviving hits you hard -- your soul resettling in your body -- accompanied by a few choice emotions; surprise in yourself is one of them, relief is the most prominent, but that disturbingly detached sort of defeat still lurks in the middle of it all.

You realize with a start that you just evolved, you were presented with an opportunity to fail -- your life literally on the line -- and you survived, even if just barely. A man, Hosea you think, is crouching in front of you, voice gentle words soft trying to coax you away from the emptiness as Dutch rounds on Kieran.

"Whats your name?" He inquires delicately, a kind of respect lining his tone that wasn't there before.

The only hard confirmation you have that you are no longer a prisoner.

Fuck him, you seethe as suddenly that void in you is lit up and replacing it -- manifesting from it -- is insurmountable wrath that burns through what's left of your reservations, fuck all of them.

Eyes a riot of chaos and emotional carnage, you lift your gaze up to Hosea. You watch him take in your expression, watch him as he realizes how dangerous it was to mistreat you. He falls silent, weathered face dropping from its genuine sympathetic plight to one of poorly masked weariness.

You say your name and its a promise, "Y/n."

--

Arthur knows then that if they don't make her one of them, have her truly believe she has a place in their gang, she would find a way to kill them all.

He witnesses as her will rises from the ashes of her defeat like a phoenix, sparking an invisible fuse with an unpredictable and inevitable explosion at the end of it. Her rebirth is the most magnificent, humbling, and terrifying thing he has ever witnessed. It puts him in sheer trembling awe of her, the kind of awe he gets when watching a bear fight off a pack of wolves single-handedly and win. The kind of awe that leaves him speechless, that appeals to his own unyielding will and tells him he doesn't stand a chance, not really, not if its important, not against her.

He sees the fury take hold of her, relishing in its newest host, and the twisted part of him that's sick with violence grins.

Unable, or more like unwilling, to process the swath of emotion currently attempting to suffocate him, Arthur tears his gaze away from her -- away from her fury that threatens to ignite his own, and heads straight for Sabine before getting the fuck out of camp.

--

Thoughts? Share them if you’d like! xxx

Chapter 4

Masterlist

#A Single Frayed Rope #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x y/n #arthur morgan x fem!reader #arthur morgan fanfic #arthur morgan #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 #my works #my writing #thejamesoldier

[artificialqueens]

What Happens At DragCon... (6/?) (Biadore) - Miss Alyssa Secret

Today was one for impulsive actions, and humping each other’s legs while in full drag in a storage closet with Raja on the other side of the wall definitely qualified.  Unapologetic smut with a side order of humor.

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2-4 / Chapter 5   

Read the full work and comment on AO3

A/N: This story was supposed to be a one-shot, but you guys asked for more :)  Thank you for that - feedback to writers is what keeps us writing! 

I never knew I needed Adore stuffing her panties into Roy’s mouth to keep him quiet until I wrote this.  Not sorry about it.  -MAS

********

A couple of hours later, Roy had completed a circuit around the entire floor, browsing leisurely and gawking along with everyone else at the outrageous looks walking by.  He even did some shopping, unable to resist buying a few new palettes and brushes.  Thankfully, there was also an ATM on site which neatly solved the problem of having to use a card with his name on it.  

On the downside, no corset meant nowhere to tuck things like his phone and wallet.  Adore didn’t carry a clutch or bag as part of her look the way Bianca did, so he was left wedging things in wherever he could.  He didn’t know how girls managed with useless pockets.

He’d made a pass by Adore’s booth again from a distance, watching her interact with fans in a way that Bianca never had a chance to see.  Her genuine excitement in meeting people and delight at the myriad of gifts radiated in her smile, and she patiently hugged and wiped tears as her line never seemed to get any shorter.  

There was a close call when Darienne passed through the crowd less than five feet away, although she didn’t linger.  It was tempting to look in on Mariah as well, but in the end he stayed well away.  Nether of them knew he was even in the country, and he didn’t want to explain.  (He could hear his favorite shady elephant now - “International booty call, thirsty bitch.”)

When he checked again, Adore had taken off to prepare for the runway show, and Roy started to head over for a good spot.  He paused across from Raja’s booth to let an Alyssa fan in a wheelchair pass.

“There! That one.”

Her voice carried over the buzz of the crowd, and he turned to find her pointing straight at him.

”Him.  Bring him to me.”  The regal command was gentle but firm.  Her assistant nodded and waded into the fray.  

”Excuse me?” The young woman looked confused but politely determined.  “Raja wants you.”

“What are you doing?” he mouthed at Raja as he was led back behind the table, receiving only a smug smile in response.

”Thank you dear.”  Raja waved her off once Roy was standing beside her, pulling him in to air kiss both cheeks.

“Sarah, this is the one I promised I’d bring to Katya for a reading.”  She stood, gripping him by the elbow.  “Back in a bit.”

********

Raja’s long legs left him stumbling in her wake, feeling woefully short without Bianca’s heels and hair.  The crowd parted around her like the grass before a gazelle, too busy focusing on her supermodel walk to notice her shadow.

Roy wasn’t sure where they were headed, but it certainly wasn’t towards Katya’s booth or the dressing room from earlier.  She didn’t seem inclined to explain, ushering him through a nondescript door at the side of the hall.  Nodding at the bored security guy as they passed, Raja continued down a service hallway before finally stopping in front of a door marked Utility Closet.

“What-?” He leaned forward, slightly out of breath from the pace she’d set…also, the chunky platform boots were a whole lot heavier than his standard stacked pumps.

Raja knocked twice before throwing open the door and casually pushing him inside.

”Delivery!”

Her voice cut off when the door closed behind him, and he blinked in the dim lighting as someone pinned him against the wall.  If the flash of gold lamé didn’t give her identity away, he still would have been able to recognize Adore by the throaty moan as their hips came into contact.

She opened the door just enough to reveal Raja lounging on the opposite side.

”Thanks man, I really owe you.”

Raja waved off her thanks, making a show of fishing a pair of AirPods from inside her bra and settling them in her ears.

”Try not to be too loud?  I’ll knock again in ten and you better both be decent.”

Roy was still processing when the door swung shut again and Adore - stripped down to just her thong - pressed her thigh between his own, claiming his mouth hungrily.

“…’Dore…hey, hang on-“ he managed between kisses.

”No time,” she breathed into his ear, tugging the skin below it with her teeth.  “Gotta finish getting ready but I needed you.”

”Fuck.”  Her hands slipped under his shirt, pinching and rolling and flicking his nipples until they were exquisitely sensitive.

”Shut up and kiss me.”  The husky demand made his cock twitch, and he complied without further argument, lips parted and both hands groping her ass while they kissed, open-mouthed and filthy.

The shorts were getting far too tight as he rubbed against her hip, but the constriction also felt deliciously risqué.  Today was one for impulsive actions, and humping each other’s legs while in full drag in a storage closet with Raja on the other side of the wall definitely qualified.  He normally had issues giving up control, but a desperate and intent Adore spoke to the part of him that wanted to let her take charge.

One of her hands moved unerringly to pop the buttons, yanking the shredded denim down together with the fishnets.  

“You’re.  So.  Fucking.  Hot,” Adore groaned, punctuating each word with bruising kisses.  She paired squeezing his restrained cock with a hard tug on his nipple and he moaned loudly, vision gone blank with lust. 

“Fuck me.”  Roy bit his lip as she dropped to her knees, giving the strap of his underwear a playful tug on the way down that teased his hole and forced out a whimper.

They both jumped at the thud from the other side of the door.

Adore paused, frowning.  It could have looked ridiculous together with the erection tenting black silk, but to him she looked like some sort of obscene sculpture, an erotic goddess of lust and seduction.  She stood, skimming off the thong and balling it up in her hand before shoving the wadded up fabric into his mouth.

Roy didn’t think it was possible to get any harder.

Licking her palm, she wrapped long fingers around both of their cocks together, rocking experimentally.  

“Fuck yeah,” she moaned, tensing as one of his hands found its way between her cheeks and rubbed dry across her hole.  Her grip tightened, slippery with leaking pre-come.  

Unable to speak, he clenched his teeth around the silk when the hand teasing his nipples moved to grip his arm, nails digging into his bicep.  The taste of Adore’s sweat on his tongue combined with her gasping breaths and the slick sound as she jerked them off heightened his arousal to painful levels.  The feeling of her shaft sliding against his own, throbbing in her fist, made him thrust faster.

“Fucking love you like this,” Adore licked up the side of his throat, painting hot stripes with her tongue.  “Let me have you, fuck, let me…” 

There was a light switch digging into his back and both of their makeup was probably ruined.  Roy ignored it in the headlong race towards orgasm.

He worked just the tip of a finger inside of her, eyes rolling back when she retaliated by biting down hard on the juncture of his neck and shoulder.

” ‘M close,” she panted out and he moaned in response.  “Come with me.”

He could feel her arching in pleasure, hand speeding up.  She kissed him roughly, tongue seeking out and playing with his through the silk.

Just a little more.  Almost-

CLICK

“What the fuck?!” Adore’s head whipped towards the door as it opened and Raja backed inside.  

”Sorry, sorry sorry sorry guys,” she hissed, deliberately staring at the wall.

Roy spit out Adore’s panties, pulled back from the edge as the shock wore off.  His sex-fogged brain was still keeping track of time, and they should have had enough time left.

Adore had let go of their (rapidly softening) erections, but her other arm still held them close together.  He didn’t think it was an attempt at modesty on her part - it would hardly be the first time Raja had seen either of them naked - and filed it away for later thought.

”I’m really sorry guys,” Raja continued.  “But they’re looking for you,” she waved vaguely towards Adore, “and someone must have seen you come down here.  I told them you were outside smoking, but they’re probably gonna come back when they don’t find you up there.”

”Fucking…cockblock…” Adore shoved her feet into her pants, pulling them up her legs as Roy tried to fix his own clothes.  Raja’s back was still turned, and he offered her the now-damp panties back.  She stuffed them in her pocket with a tiny smile, shared a lingering kiss, and disappeared out the door.

Roy finished tucking himself back into a more or less presentable state, doing his best to ignore the fabric rubbing against his sensitive dick, and sighed.

”Did they want to know what you were doing down here?”  His voice managed to sound both annoyed and fucked out.

Raja turned around, expression full of apology and amusement.

”Told them I needed to meditate and the energy was good here.”  

“Of course.”

#rpdr fanfiction #bianca del rio #adore delano #biadore #what happens at drag con #raja gemini #smut #humor #missalyssasecret #submission #canon compliant #dragcon

[todorosy]

Pt. 1 For Toshinori & Present Mic: Their S/O has an extreme regeneration quirk like Deadpool. And, like Deadpool, they’re pretty blasé about the damage they take. In fact, they have a very optimistic outlook on their quirk’s capabilities. Say they casually let themselves be blow up or shot in the head during Hero work... but the kicker is they’ve never actually told The boys what exactly their quirk can do...

Pt. 2 So, they get their brains blown out, drop like a rock and just pick themselves back up again and woozily keep going while spouting comical gibberish while their brain knits itself back together or tiredly whine about getting bloodstains outta their clothes. Like, they’re so used to pushing through the pain or playing it off as nothing, they only find it a minor inconvenience now. (If this is too dark, no worries).

I actually love this so much! Reading this requests made me all giggly lol

Torishino Yagi

The city’s rate of crime has been surprisingly low lately. Maybe not surprisingly, but suspiciously low. This also applied to the League of Villains. The amount of Nomu pop up’s were progressively getting less and less active. While many of the other pro heroes brushed it off as another victory, I couldn’t. It was almost too quiet. At the USJ attack, we found out about their motives for attacking Yuuei. They wanted the symbol of peace dead. and I know they won’t stop until he is.

I was hesitant when Toshi brought up the idea of a date night. I had always had a bad feeling whenever he would propose the idea of going out or doing something in large crowds. However, Toshi would always brush it off as me over reacting or being too overprotective like always.

This time, I reluctantly agreed.

“Toshi, you sure you don’t want to just order a pizza and watch movies or something?” I sigh as I attached the large hoops to my ears.

“Why would I want to?” He says as he tightened his tie. “It’s not everyday I get to see you all dolled up. You look so beautiful with that dress on.” He leans against the door frame with a soft smile on his face.

“You know…” I walked over to him and wrapped my arms around his neck. “I can look just as beautiful with this dress off.” I whisper sweetly in his ear.

“Is that so?” He smirks down at me. “So tempting…” he whispers in the same seductive voice as I had. “But not as tempting as the restaurant reservations I made. And it’s Italian! Like pizza!” He excitedly says as he slips out of my arms and patted my back while he walked away. “Get your shoes on and let’s go. I’ll meet you in the car.”

I let out an defeated huff. “Fine.” I grumble under my breath.

-

I nervously tapped my foot as my eyes darted around the the tables around us for any suspicious activity.

“Y/N, you’re doing the thing again.” Toshi discreetly says as he takes a sip of his water. “You’re going to freak the people around us out.”

“What do you mean? I’m not doing anything.” I say as quickly stop the foot tapping. “It’s not crazy to care for your well being, right?”

“You’re not crazy, hon.” He puts your hand between his and brings it up to his mouths. “You just have to let loose. I’m suppose to be the one protecting you, remember?”

I pursed my lips at the oh so familiar line that he first said to me when we were just sidekicks. I knew my quirk wasn’t exactly the best alone in combat situations, which is why I mainly trained in mixed martial arts, and throwing knives.

“You should have at least let me bring my knifes. This is a long dress, I could have hidden them under it.” I complain. “Just for safety purposes? You know anything could happen.

“There are several heroes patrolling this block anyways. I know Shouta is probably close by. So you can calm down. We’re here together to spend time instead of worrying about hero work, remember? This is supposed to be our only day off for a while.”

“You’re right, you’re right. I’m sorry. I trust your gut and sense of judgment.” I let out a deep sigh, releasing all of my anxieties along with it.

The majority of our evening went smoothly. We caught each other up about the students in our classes and what their next plan for them was. I had to admit that this was one of the funnest night I’ve have with Toshi. What was I worried for? The L.o.V haven’t made their move in months. Villainry was being taken care of by the heroes on patrol, and I had nothing to worry about.

All of the sudden, in the middle of my conversation about future plans, I heard a blood curling scream coming from the street in front of the restaurant, followed

My eyes widened as I  looked back at Toshi. His eyes were equally as wide in surprise.

Out of heroic instincts, we yelled for everyone to remain calm and to stay inside of the restaurant. We ran outside to see an enlarged Nomu flying around buildings, occasionally crashing into a sky scraper.

“Y/N?! What in the world are you wearing?” Aizawa says once he spots me.

“Don’t mind it! I was on a date.” I say in an annoyed tone. “What’s happening? Is this Nomu’s brother or something?” I asked, following the bird like creature circling around the sky.

“Apparently. The league is back.” He says as he hovered his scarf up, ready to pull the creature down.

My heart sank. The league is back? How could they be back? And they want Toshi. Where is Toshi?

I scrambled around, looking for the blonde lanky man. He’s so distinguishable, I should be able to point him out of a crowd. But where is he? Why can’t I find him?

As more heroes came to the scene, I still couldn’t see Toshi anywhere. I mentally cursed myself. If anything happened to him, I would never forgive myself. I should have known. I should have listened to my gut.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see my s/o crouching on the ground, helping the other rescue heroes search for any people that were trapped under the rubble from the buildings. I released an audible sigh, as he was okay.

I hear another crash. Though this time, it was from an object flying out from the side of the building’s window. I instantly recognized the League of Villains member from the attack at the summer camp. Whilst in the air, the member unleashes his blades for teeth.

“Toshi!” I yelled as I instinctively run towards him, giving him a hard shove away from the blade of a tooth.

My breath hitches as I feel a sharp pain enter my chest. I fall back, causing my body to fall on my knees and onto the cold, unforgiving ground. All around me, I hear screams and yelling after all of the teeth rooted themselves into the ground. I look over to my left to see Toshi’s horrified expression fill my vision as it slowly fades into black.

Though I knew dying was almost an impossible task for me, I hated the feeling. It felt like I was floating in a nightmare. Only dark fog traveled for miles as my body floated in the mist. Then, all of the sudden, I’m falling. I’m falling for miles, and hours, as if it’s never ending. Then I jerk back into my body.

“Y/N…I was supposed to protect you!!” I recognized Toshi’s sobs in the crook of my neck. “Why…why..why…you were right. I’m so sorry, Y/N, I’m so so sorry.” Hot tears rolled down my neck, mixing itself with the blood.

I open my eyes to see many heroes with tears in their eyes, circled around Toshi and I. Had they already taken care of the league?

“I’m never eating Italian ever again.” I let a groan escape my chapped lips.

Toshi quickly rips himself away from my body. He looked at me with wide eyes and tear stained cheeks.

“Y/N? Y/N!” He pulls me back in for an even tighter hug. “H-how are you alive? I saw….I saw…” He stammers.

“Wait, wait Toshi, don’t touch me.” I push him away. “I don’t want you to ruin your suit with blood.” I quickly stand up and brush off the rubble and dirt off of my ripped, blood stained dress. “This was my favorite dress, too.” I grumble in disappointment

“Are you fucking serious?”  Aizawa says in disbelief. “You just died and came back to life and you only care about your outfits?”

“This isn’t the first time this has happened?” I say with a confused expression. “It’s my quirk? Why is everyone getting so worked up about it?”

“Your…quirk?” Toshi grabbed me by the shoulders and stared into my eyes, as if he was searching for a hint of anything out of the ordinary in my eyes and face.

“Regeneration, babe. You couldn’t get rid of me if you tried.” I chuckle.

Hizashi Yamada

Hizashi and I were partners in crime. We pretty much hit it off the moment I was introduced to him. I was hired to be his teacher’s assistant due to his busy schedule of being the head of the English department, radio show host, a DJ and a pro hero. Though, it wasn’t long until we started dating on the down low.

Together, we were like the yin and yang. Although his quirk was powerful, he was reckless and too “trigger happy.” I was there to analyze the situation and keep him in check. And for me, my quirk wasn’t exactly useful for combat. Perfect for being reckless, but unfortunately I preferred to develop a well thought out plan before going in for the kill, which was left to Hizashi.

“Okay, so if I’m correct, the gang members should be in the room right ahead of the East entrance.” I say as I rapidly type in codes for the hidden cameras that we hid around the facility over the course of several months.

“How many? Do I need backup?” I hear in my ear pierce. I sat in a fake cafe the police force put together with other pro heroes, ready to rush in if needed.

“There’s currently two inside. You won’t need backup, but we’re here just in case…you got that, cupcake?” You smirked.

“H(ero)/N! What if the others hear?” He hushes.

“Oh, it’s fine. No one else is on the line anyways. They’re on my cue. But before we get to business, let me just tell you that if you die, I’ll kill you. Seriously. Be careful.”

“Roger that, princess.” I could hear the smirk in his voice.

“Alright. Move in.” I say, ignoring the blush that rosed to my cheeks, as I analyze each camera and their different angles. This building they were hiding in was quite large, but I was quick to follow Hizashi’s movement with the cameras as well.

“You’re clear. Move ahead.” I say, switching angles.

Just as I gave him the green light, I couldn’t see the mobsters anymore. How had they easily gone out of my sight? I switched to every camera we had set up, but they weren’t in sight.

“I lost view of the mobsters.” I say loudly, so the heroes around me could hear. “Present Mic do you see or hear them?” I asked.

“No, not yet.” He says unsure of himself.

“I don’t see them around you. So you should be good.” I say.

I continue to search around for the gang members, rapidly switching cameras over multiple cycles.

Suddenly, the cameras shut down. One by one. Until the very last camera showed a large group of mobsters, in a room, waiting for Hizashi’s arrival.

“Fuck.” I mutter under my breath. “Cameras are down. I repeat. Cameras are down. It was a trap all along.” I say. “Present Mic, retreat now. There are multiple members. 30 at least.”

“I can’t retreat, it’s too late. They heard me.” He say. “It’s no big deal. I can handle it.”

“No, HIza- Present Mic! You need to retreat now.” I warn.

There was no reply. All I heard was the radio static. “Son of a bitch.” I mutter under my breath.

“Everyone! Move in, now!” I call out as I ripped the ear piece out and run towards the door and across the street to where the building was. The heroes’ footsteps were quick behind mine as I ran up the stairs to where I saw Hizashi last through the camera.

My eyes widened when I saw the group of men circling around Hizashi. It was impossible to get them all wiped out with his quirk since he could only go in one direction.

Once we made our presence known, many more members came through from the stairs and charged at us, releasing a huge group fight between us and the members.

My vision was filled with people going back and forth on each other, but Hizashi was no where in sight, until I accidentally back into him.

“H/N, what in the world are you doing here?” He says as we continued to fight off the people in front of us. “You shouldn’t be here. You aren’t a part of the backup squad.” He scolds.

“I’m the one that messed up. I should have known this was a trap and that’s why we’re in this mess. Don’t believe one second that I’m not apart of this.” I say before kicking the member into the wall, unconscious.

I turn around to see a member holding his hand out towards Hizashi. I immediately pulled him out of the way. I knew this quirk. I studied this quirk. I could recognize it before seeing it in action.

Bullets shot of out his fingertips, flying towards me. It felt as if it was coming at such a slow rate. As if I was expecting this. I chose to take this bullet because in all honesty, this mess was my fault. My miscalculations. My amateur cameras. All of it.

I feel my head snap back with immense force, knocking me onto my back. I blankly stare at white haze as I feel a pair of strong arms pull me into them. I vaguely recognized this feeling. The feeling of warmth and euphoria rushing through my veins. It brought me back to when I realized that I wasn’t quirkless after all. It could have been that I scraped my knee, or broke a bone and it healed at a remarkable rate. But It was when I got hit by a car at the age of 6. This same white haze filled my vision for what felt like forever until it cleared up to find myself laying in the middle of the street with my parents screaming with tears in their eyes at the side.

Instead of the clear blue sky, I see the grimy ceiling covered in water damage paired with blond strands covering my eyes.

“Y/N…Why did you do it? You didn’t have to do this.” I hear Hizashi softly sob in my ear. “Please don’t leave me.”

I take a moment to bask in his soft voice. I was so used to hearing his loud and bubbly articulations, this was such a new experience.

My eyes widened once I realized that the other heroes were staring at his body gingerly holding my own with his hand stroking my blood soaked hair.

“H-Hizashi!” I push him off and plop back on the floor. The cat was out of the bag. From the public display of affection, they must have known you two were together at this point. “We’re in front of people.” I whisper awkwardly.

“Y/N? W-What just happened? You just..” He motions to the bullet hole in the middle of my forehead.

“Huh? What do you mean?” I asked, equally as confused.

“You just died!” He exclaims, standing up and staring at me with bewildered eyes. “There’s no way that you’re alive right now! You should be dead!”

“Regeneration quirk! Have I seriously never told you before? Everyone knew, right?” I eyed the other heroes in the room, who replied with a simple head nod.

“I didn’t? Why didn’t you tell me.” He lets out a sigh of relief as he pulls me up by the arms, and into his chest.

“You never asked…I didn’t think it would be that important in this line of work.” I mutter before my eye caught at the other’s stares. “People, Hizashi.” I slightly pull away from his arms.

“I don’t care, Y/N. I just experienced your death and I don’t care if people know that I love and care for you

#boku no hero academia #bnha #my hero academia #mha #toshinori yagi #toshinori x reader #bnha hizashi #present mic #all might #hizashi x reader #bnha x reader #yamada hizashi #toshinorixreader #hizashixreader

[atqh16]

Dear Friend, Forgive Me Where I'm Weak

Summary

Foggy has always known that there was a risk of Matt's enemies coming for him and using him against his best friend. He just wishes he wasn't sick with Cancer when they did. Inspired by the 2011 Mark Waid Daredevil run (Chapter 30#). Where the Matt's enemies show up to torture Foggy for information while he's undergoing chemotherapy in the hospital.

Matt Murdock & Foggy Nelson

Angst, Whump. Hurt/Comfort, Cancer, Chemotherapy, Foggy!Whump

AO3

Foggy opens his eyes to a blonde man in a coat inspecting the machines near his electrocardiogram monitor. He's unfamiliar but that doesn't really rankle up his nerves till he sees the man pull out a syringe and starts fiddling with the tube of his saline bag and intravenous chemo drip.

"Doctor?" He calls out carefully, mind heavy with sleep but still wary from the last time an unfamiliar man in a coat holding a syringe - sent by Bullseye of all people- had almost killed him a few days before in that very same room. "Sorry but I've never really seen you around here. The nurse usually tells me when they're about to add anything to my usual drip. To warn me ya know? Did I miss a memo or-"

The man doesn't even bother to turn and face him. Instead proceeding to place the needle of the syringe into his injection port. "It's alright Mr. Nelson. No need to be alarmed. This is merely a supplement", he says as if that was enough to explain everything.

The words induce the opposite of a calming effect on him and Foggy frowns. "An anti-emetic?", he pushes suspiciously. But 'Blondie' doesn't answer. Instead 2 other men in Black suits enter into his room and close the door behind them with a click of the lock.

Foggy's alarm bells  are fully ringing now and he reaches for the emergency call button but doesn't hear the usual beep when he presses it. His heart starts to drum in his ribs. The nausea that had already been creeping up his throat from the chemo treatment starts to edge even higher, combined with the fear that was setting a slight tremble at his fingertips. He wishes more than anything right now that Matt would show up for one of his surprise visits. Even though he knows visiting hours had ended an hour ago.

"Who are you? What do you want?" His voice sharp despite the fog of panic. Turning his head from the men in the suits to the man in the coat -regretting it immediately at the throbbing pain of his aching neck muscles- though not really expecting an answer. His hand creeps cautiously under his blanket for his phone, groping around uselessly before realizing-

"Mr Nelson there's no need to be alarmed as long as you cooperate," one of the men - Mr short and pudgy- says. His voice comes out a harsh, gravelly tone and Foggy half expects him to pull out a stick and yell at kids to 'get off his damn lawn!'

"We're merely here to ask you to clarify certain allegations against your friend, Mr Murdock and other accusations concerning his 'nightly outings'. If you answer our questions we'll leave you to your treatment with no harm done before the hour is even up," he continues. The statement sounds reasonable enough but the 'if you don't' still hangs threateningly in the air.

Foggy immediately realizes what this is about and his hands ball up the rough hospital sheets in his fists.

"You're the Sons of Serpents" Foggy says, eyes narrowing when none of them deny it. He racks his brain for all the information he's read up on them and what Matt had told him before. He's never met them in person or been in their cross fires in the past. But he's researched enough of their history to know they're nothing but bad news. A racially motivated group doing everything to gain and maintain power and cruelly dispatching anyone in their way. Particularly those who they thought didn't look the way they felt 'people' should look. They were basically the new Nazi propaganda hell bent on spreading their influence all across the globe. Matt simply called them racists trash and frankly from what Foggy's found in his own research, he couldn't agree more.

"If you think I'm going to give you any information willy nilly then you've got the wrong guy. In fact I'm pretty sure we've already proved what you're suggesting as bullshit half a dozen times in court already"

Mr pudgy creeps closer to his bed and it takes all of Foggy's control not to cringe away.

The man brandishes a thick file in his hand the same way Foggy had expected him to do to his proverbial stick.

"Mr Nelson lets not play that game. We both know the truth. Let's skip the pleasantries and commence to the meat of the matter shall we? And don't bother trying to scream for help. We have people in the building to aid us in redirecting any unwanted intrusion" He says with a condescending tone and a disdainful expression on his face and Foggy finds himself paying closer attention to his unwanted visitor.

The man's suit is impeccable and almost impossibly taut with not a wrinkle in sight. He reeks of an offensive -and obviously expensive- cologne that makes Foggy's nausea claw higher up his throat the closer he gets.

But worse of all - at this proximity- Foggy can't help but see a coldness in his eyes that reminds him of ruthless men who would do anything and everything to get what they want.

The thought sends a cold chill down his spine and he can't seem to hold back the resulting shudder.

It's not that he's never faced with anything like them before. Matt's infamous repertoire of villains have ensured that Foggy has had more than his fair share of being in the presence of merciless and remorseless men who would do the unthinkable with a snap of their fingers and a turn of their wrists without even a hesitant flinch. These men have nothing on Wilson Fisk and he's stood in front of the Kingpin himself and survived and he damn well wasn't going to be intimidated by these borderline ridiculous and literal 'Men in black'.

But as he attempts so sit up to meet the man eye to eye a jolt shoots up his spine like a serrated bullet and he can't help the the choked gasp he emits at the pain.

The effect immediately reminds him of how defenseless he really is at the moment from his cancer and it's subsequent hellish treatment. He holds his breath and finds himself noticing even more how exhausted he really is. The muscle of his fingers were already throbbing from their earlier exertion, frail and weak. He can barely move his limbs without a sharp ache in his joints and the ever present twist and pull of his stomach had nothing to do with the men in the room.

Vertigo edges at his line of sight, daring him to turn his head like he did before and his already labored breathing quickens at realizing that this wasn't a confrontation he could fight.

And frustration welled up in him at the thought because even in life and death situations in the past, he had always been comforted by the thought that Matt's enemies would have to face him kicking and screaming if they wanted to put him down.

Foggy is not a brave man. He's never had any illusion that he was. He's a pacifist at heart and even despite that, fear has always been such a strong fixture of his identity that it practically runs in his veins.

Between a villain and his best friend he's always understood that his place is set permanently behind Matt because he knows his limitations. Understands that words have always been his choice of weaponry over a physical fight and he wields them just as well if not better than Matt does his fists.

But lying there now on his hospital bed with toxins and the equivalent of poison spreading in his system he knows instantly that it won't be enough. This isn't a battle he can fight against and most likely not one he can dream of winning.

And nothing tightens the chill around his heart more than the thought that he was at risk of giving these man any thread of leverage against his best friend.

But he'll be damned if he was going to make it any easier on them anyway.

He knows he's not exactly an impressive picture of defiance, especially with his aborted attempt at pulling himself up. Regardless, he meets the man eye to eye as well as he could. Daring him to do his worst.

"Fuck off" he spits out

The other man - Mr tall and oily (seriously, he looks like he lathers a tub of grease on his head every morning)- raises an eyebrow at his ensuing determined silence and nods towards the man In the coat.

Foggy spares a glance to the side to see him pull out another syringe to inject into his port.

It takes a while and Foggy even indulges in the idea that it hadn't worked before suddenly his muscles are contracting against his will and he barely holds back a gasp behind clenched teeth.

What happens after that is this. They place the file on his over bed table and asks questions with every sheet they pull out. Every 5 minutes where he doesn't cooperate another vial of the substance is shot through his system. The pain increases at a sluggish pace but it's effect is potent. They continue to ask him questions, shifting through the papers all the while and it alarms him how much they already know about Matt. Everything from newspaper articles about his incident, his father's career and death and even his medical records from his first hospitalization at nine years old to his last most recent visit this year. It dawns on him after a while that they weren't there to ask for information but instead for confirmation. To make sure what they already uncovered was 100%  true and the only reason they were even bothering to do so would be because they needed to ensure that what they had would hold up under inspection and the only reason they would be so thorough about that was if they planned on bringing up those same documents in court or publication. They weren't just trying to find Matt's weakness. They were going after his credibility. His integrity. Even his livelihood if it was enough to get him disbarred or jailed. And most likely it would.

He's not even sure if he says a word to them. The pain is literally blinding with how often his eyes threaten to roll up into his skull and breathing feels like drawing air through a straw.

After a while he notices that the men weren't even facing him and were instead studying his heart monitor, taking notes every time a question made his heat rate spike.

It's sometime after the seventh injection that he finally lets out a shout, though it comes out more a sob. The machines beside him all begin to beep their warnings and he can hear hurried shuffling and voices in the corridor outside his room from what he hopes to be one nurse to the other.

'God please. Please. Help me. Someone help me please' Foggy can't help but beg in his mind.

But the men in front of him don't seem to be apprehensive at the possibility of attracting attention. Instead taking their time to leisurely shuffle and arrange their papers and closing their file with a muffled flip.

"We are done here I think. Thank you for your help Mr Nelson. It was much appreciated. And don't worry, we won't let you die yet. Keeping you alive is very much in our best interest"

And just like that they were gone but Foggy barely notices. Every nerve and muscle in his body is on fire and his heart is thumping like a drum in his ears. He would scream if his throat wasn't so dry and even then he can almost feel the lining of it threaten to tear at his effort. Though he finds himself more preoccupied with how it had become even harder to pull enough air into his lungs for a single breath.

He's suffocating. He can't breath!

'This is it', the pain submerges his thoughts into mass panic. 'I'm going to die. I'm going to die like this. I won't see Matt again. This is how it ends'

The door finally bursts open and a flow of attendants and nurses hurried into the room, calling out instructions he can't bring up the strength to try and understand. The last thing he sees before the darkness finally takes him is the blonde man in the coat standing in front of his bed, watching him before everything goes black.

Awareness struggles at the periphery of  his consciousness. Pulling him back to the surface at the sound of Matt's voice. There are other people in the room and it takes him a while to recognize them as the men from before. Matt sounds tense and furious but everything is too muffled for Foggy to understand their conversation.

Having Matt so near at his side is enough for him to feel safe and relaxed especially when it became obvious that Matt was standing protectively between Foggy and their unwanted visitors. But there's a guilty nudge inside him when his mind becomes present enough to understand what was being said. Recognizing the men bringing up the same information from before. Allowing him to comprehend enough of the situation to know that these men were already starting to use the info they have against his best friend. Possibly to black mail him to do what they want. Things Matt might decide to do just so he could protect Foggy and their other friends because if nothing else Matt will always try his hardest to protect those around him even at his own detriment. His too kind and compassionate heart never being able to bear the thought of anyone being hurt and god Foggy hates what it does to his friend but he's known him for too long to not understand. And he can feel tears welling on his eyelids to know that these men were using that same compassion - and the information they've had Foggy unwillingly confirm - against him.

'Matt. Matt I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I tried to fight. I tried so hard. I tried not to tell them anything I swear! I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.' Foggy tries to say but his tongue feels thick and heavy behind his teeth. Either way the mask over his mouth and nose stifle any sound he manages to make and it's only when he hears the men making their way to the door and closing it with a familiar click, that he manages to inch shaking fingers to wrap around the wrist Matt is resting on the bed beside him.

Matt snaps around to face him. His hand twisting so both his and foggy's are holding each other wrist to wrist while the other flits from Foggy's shoulder and upward to gently cup his cheek.

"Foggy?", Matt's voice is a mix of apprehension and relief. There's also a mournful hint in his tone. "Hey buddy. Hey are you with me? Should I call the nurse? Jesus Christ, your skin is so cold. I can barely hear your pulse Fog."

Foggy looks up, trying to nod and convey that he was alright without speaking. His eyes scour his friends face and he can't help but notice how red and flustered Matt looks with his auburn hair sticking in sweaty clumps on his forehead as if he'd ran all the way to the hospital. His black tie that he kept in his office for emergencies hung loose under his collar as if he hadn't really bothered to tie it properly and the tense, stiff stance that he had when Foggy first woke up, melts away and his broad shoulders hung loose from exhaustion.

He looked worn out. Stretched thin. The last time Foggy had seen him so overwhelmed was when Fisk had burned down his home and had him disbarred. He can't help but frown, wonderingly worriedly what the men could have said to his friend to make him look so defeated.

But then Matt bows his head, choking back tears and Foggy realizes that it wasn't what the men had said, but what Matt though they had done that really had him shaking.

"I'm so sorry Foggy. I was in the suit when the nurses called. They said you were in pain. They said you might not- I thought- I thought I'd lost you. I couldn't hear your heart beat. I couldn't- I was terrified. I came as fast as I could. I'm so sorry I wasn't here. You asked me for one thing. You asked me to be here and I wasn't and I'm so sorry Fog." Matt's chest began to heave with gentle sobs

With as much force as he could muster, Foggy tightened his grip on Matt's wrist in what he hopes is a soothing gesture. He wishes he could do more, but simply opening his eyelids felt like lifting weights. He could only hope that Matt would understand what he was trying to say

'It's ok'

'I understand'

'The city needed you'

'Please stay'

'I tried. I'm so sorry'

'It hurt Matt. Everything still hurts'

'I'm so scared Matt. I thought I was going to die. I thought I'd never see you again'

'I'm still afraid that I'm going to die. Who would've thought cancer would be the way I go huh?'

'I'm so scared of leaving you Matty. I don't want to leave you'

Maybe it works because Matt leans even closer, resting his head gently on Foggy's other shoulder. Foggy struggles and manages to pull his free hand to rest on his friends back even though such a small movement already made his muscles ache even worse.

It takes him a while before he can manage to get his hand up and pull the mask down off his lips.

Matt immediately moved to put it back, "Foggy don't-"

"Matt. What did-" *cough * "what did they want? What- what did they ask for?"

Matt looks stricken and Foggy knew he was torn between keeping his sick friend in the dark or unloading it all on his best friend. Knowing full well that the former was something Foggy hated.

So he takes the middle road.

"You're still exhausted Fog," he soothes. Gently putting the mask back in it's place. One hand moving to the back of Foggy's very bald head and leaning forward to place a gentle kiss on his forehead. An intimate gesture that he rarely did but one they both sorely needed after the terrifying experience they just had.

"Go to sleep Foggy. I'll tell you when you wake up." Matt says reassuringly, pulling Foggy's blanket just a little higher.

"Promise?" Foggy whispers behind the mask. Eyes already starting to close but knowing that Matt heard him.

"I promise" Matt replies, bringing up a finger to cross an 'X' over his hearts. It's the last thing he see's and hear's before Foggy falls in a deep peaceful sleep. Comforted at the idea that as long as Matt was around, he'd be safe.

This was inspired by a scene we didn't get to see in the 2011 Mark Waid run. It's an amazing Daredevil comic and my ultimate favorite and I fully encourage anyone who loves Daredevil to read it. Especially if you love reading about the dynamic between Matt and Foggy. Here's the link for anyone who's interested.

https://readcomiconline.to/Comic/Daredevil-2011

Or you can just google 'Daredevill 2011 Read Online'

I dont really encourage piracy but where I'm from some of these comics are impossible to get.

I also fully encourage reading the continuation also by Mark Waid in the 2014 Daredevil run

https://readcomiconline.to/Comic/Daredevil-2014

#Matt Murdock #Elden Henson #Foggy Nelson #Charlie cox #Matt Murdock&Foggy Nelson #Whump #Angst #Hurt/Comfort #Daredevil #Cancer #fanfiction #daredevil fanfiction #Fanfic #my writing #Mark Waid #Foggy!Whump #Daredevil Comic #Daredevil Tv #Daredevil tv series #daredevil netflix

[k4l1ps0]

Perfect Imperfections

@twinstarsweek #2

Prompt: Secrets/ Protect/ Hands/ Fear

Prompts chosen: Secrets/ Fear

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Katsuki's POV

It was blatantly obvious that Deku was avoiding me.

Every time we talked, he would get all jittery and glance around the place frantically, as if searching for an exit.

In school, if I turned a corner and found him walking towards me, he would whirl around dash the other way.

It was as if he was hiding something from me, something that he desperately didn't want me to know.

And it was starting to piss me off.

I wanted to know what was going on badly, for my own piece of mind, but I didn't trust myself to keep my cool if I talked about it to Deku.

All my thoughts would fly out of my mouth the moment I opened it and in the worst way posssible.

Besides, we had only just started dating and I didn't want to ruin things with a sudden outburst.

He might be going through some stuff right now and need his space to think things through. Yeah, that's probably it.

Or maybe he's starting to realise he doesn't like you anymore. A voice suggested in my head

He might be re-thinking his descision to be with you right now Added another.

He's probably already found someone else and is secretly going out with them

Yeah, why would he want to stay with an awful person like you?

All my doubts and insecurities circled round my head like hawks and I found myself fearing the moment when- if- Deku finally tells me what's wrong.

What if he is cheating on me?

I'll be mad, of course, but how can I blame him when he's in a relationship with an asshole like me?

Betrayal, sorrow and confusion fogged my logical thinking with impossible senarios that I shouldn't be thinking about, but I couldn't help it.

I should trust Deku more, trust that he wouldn't do something like that. He...he couldn't.

But then...he should trust me more as well, right? Tell me what's been bothering him, even if he does need space at least he could fucking explain to me!

That sadness soon turned into anger as I clenched my fists and thought about the unfairness of the situation.

Why should I be so worried about this whole situation when he is probably not even batting an eye to how I feel!

Probably hanging out with that new dude, having a romantic dinner or something and bitching about me.

I bet it's fucking half n' half, he's been unusually friendly with Deku this past week. Even offering him extra help in class!

That's it. I've had enough! I'm gonna find this shit out once and for all.

~

The next day, I went to Deku's house and rang the bell, hoping he would answer the door and they could get it over with as soon as possible.

Instead, it was his mom that answered it.

"Oh, hello Katsuki! Are you here for Izuku?" Aunty Inko greeted him with a grin.

"Yeah, is he home?" I answered, smiling slightly, despite the situation, because Aunty Inko's cheerfullness was contagious.

"Oh no, he's not here. Would you like to come in for tea, though?" She offered.

"Ah, no thank you, Aunty." I politely declined, "But could you tell me where Deku could be right now?"

"Hmm..." She thought for a moment, "I think he might be at the park, but I'm not sure. That child never tells me anything these days."

"Ok, thank you. Have a nice day, Aunty!" He waved and turned to leave.

There was only one park near by, so I assumed she was talking about that one.

I strolled through the gates and scanned my surrounding, searching for Deku but I found that quite difficult because the place was pretty big.

The entrance area branched off into three long paths, one forward, one to my left and the the other to my right. I couldn't really see much down each path because of the obnoxious amount of trees and plants blocking my vision, so I decided the left path will do.

It led me to a playround littered with children as well as swings and slides. I glanced around the place for a familiar mop of green hair but found nothing.

Sighing, I went back and took the right path which led me to a secluded pond area where a lot of couples were enjoying a romantic stroll and elderly people feeding the ducks.

I treked round the area and still no Deku.

I was beginning to get frustrated at this point. All I wanted to do was talk and get rid of this anxiety growing in me and I'm sent on a wild fucking goose chase?

Returning to the junction again, I took the final path forward. There was a huge field at the end of it with people playing various sports and an even bigger club house behind it.

I was about to wander on to the field to continue my search, when I heard his familiar cheerful voice behind me.

I spun around and found him talking to Uraraka and Kirishima (what were they doing here?) at the far corner of the field.

Exhaling in relief, I made my way towards them. I guess they were to distracted with whatever it is they were talking about to see me approaching because when I rested my hand on Deku's shoulder to get his attention, he jumped and was startled by my presence.

The other two finally looked at me as well with startled and uneasy looks on there faces.

"What's with that face?" I asked, confused by their expressions.

Shitty hair was about to answer when Deku interrupted him, "Oh, um, w-we were just talking about- uh math! That's all! they really hate the subject."

"Uh huh yeah ok." I dismissed it, not believing him but I didn't really care anyway, "Hey, Deku, we need to talk."

"Wh-Now?"

"Yes, now." I tried to grab his arm but he moved out of the way.

"Sorry, we have to do a thing now. I'll talk to you later, BYE!" He said and quickly dashed off with his friends close behind.

Well, that was one way to get out of a conversation.

I got out of my shock and ran after them, wanting to know what the actual fuck was going on.

They ran across the field and into the club house with me in pursuit. They closed the door behind them so that I wouldn't know where they were going.

But they were really bad at keeping quiet and I knew which stairs they took when I eventually opened the door.

Taking the same stairs, I yelled at them to stop but they wouldn't listen. When they were on the first floor they went through the third door into a dark hall of some kind.

Reaching the first floor myself, I stopped to catch my breath before proceeding to go through the same door.

Opening it, I was met with darkness, however I strode inside without bothering to waste time to find the switches.

"I know you guys are in here!" I yelled, "Why the fuck are ypu running away? You think I wouldn't follow you!?"

The door suddenly slammed shut behind me.

"Can someone just explain what the hell is going on-"

"SURPRISE!!"

They lights flicked on and I had to blink a few times to get used to the sudden light.

When I adjusted, my eyes focused on all my friends; Mina, Sero, Kirishima, Kaminari, Iida, Uraraka and Todoroki, smiling at me expectantly as well as a load of decorations around the room.

"What the hell..."

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!"

Oh.

"It's my birthday today?" I asked.

Deku stepped forward, laughing. "Of course it is! Don't tell me you forgot!"

"I forgot." I admitted.

"We thought you would've caught on by now, dude." Pikachu said, "I didn't think you were that dumb..."

"I'm not dumb!" I yelled defensively, "I just had a lot on my mind, ok!?"

Kirishima brought me a slice of the cake I hadn't noticed yet. It was orange and black and had a really badly drawn picture of my face with 'Happy Birthday!' written at the bottom.

"It's chocolate." He said while handing it to me.

"And we got you all these gifts!" Sero added, pointing to the pile of presents next to the table.

I was too shocked to say anything.

So...the ridiculous conclusions I jumped to were just ridiculous conclusions anyway?

I surprised everyone by laughing. Laughing in relief.

"What's so funny?" Mina asked.

"What's funny...is that I thought Deku was cheeting on me." I replied, still laughing.

Now Deku joined my laughter too.

"That is the most stupidest thing you have ever said." He said after his laughing fit, "Why would I ever do that?"

I stopped my laughing and answered seriously, "I don't know, 'cause I'm awful? 'Cause you deserve someone better?"

"Well, no one's perfect." He stated, cupping my face gently, "And I love you for your imperfections because it's what makes you, you."

"That's a lie," I said, resting my hands on his hips, "You're perfect."

"Awww." Everyone cooed.

"Shut up." I said, covering our faces with my jacket as we kissed.

#twin stars week #bakudeku #katsudeku #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugou #midoriya izuku #izuku midoriya #bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #anime #fanfic #fanfiction #fan fiction